


An Inversion of Fate

by Basuralindo



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Power Swap, Alternate Universe - Reverse Trope, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Complex Abuse, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Malec, Parental Death, Shadowhunters - Freeform, Slow Burn, Species Swap, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, minor gore, mlm, overcoming biphobia, the mortal instruments - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-12-18 23:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 51,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11885208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basuralindo/pseuds/Basuralindo
Summary: {Formerly A Flip-Side Story}(Warlock-Alec, Shadowhunter-Magnus AU)When a Shadowhunter at the NYC Institute succumbs to a strange new venom after a demonic attack, an eight-year grudge must be set aside to seek help from the Downworld. Magnus and his team are sent to work with the enigmatic High Warlock on finding a cure, and discovering what -or who- is behind this. In spite of everything, there are some interests that just can't be kept professional.





	1. Tall Handsome Man

**Author's Note:**

> Everything's kind of a mashup of the books and TV show, bear with me. Character descriptions are mostly closer to the novels (with some combining), but age and timeline is consistent with the show. I tried to blend how the weapons and magic worked in both versions, lots of creative liberty there.  
> There are OCs present for plot, not shipping, all the canon romances are safe.  
> I haven't finished the book series yet so please forgive any inconsistencies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title lyrics from [Red Right Hand](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5dt_8xXgqo&spfreload=10).

         Magnus rested his forehead against the cab window and sulked. Beside him Jace and his sister babbled on about what the High Warlock's apartment might be like.

         None of them had ever gotten to see the inside of a warlock's home before, honestly it was a miracle that his father was even allowing them to go now, and they were making bets on what they'd find there. Jace had immediately declared the man “creepy” and had his money on cobwebs, cauldrons, and dead things in jars. Deifilia insisted he seemed far too anal for cobwebs, and probably had neat shelves of ingredients arranged in alphabetical order. “Ok, maybe you're right,” Jace conceded after some consideration, “but that doesn’t mean they wouldn’t be dead and in jars. How much do you want to  bet there's at least one human fetus preserved in there.”

         “Oh come on, mundane scientists keep human fetuses around, it's not even that uncommon, or really a warlock thing.” Dei protested.

          “Well that just makes them more accessible, doesn't it? And I'm not budging on the cauldron. I'd bet my left arm on the cauldron.” With that Jace leaned back, arms crossed, and turned to Magnus. “How about you then, Mag? You've hardly said a word since we got in the cab.” 

         Magnus eyed the cab driver, or the back of her head anyway, as she studiously ignored them. The closed partition offered some conversational privacy, but it wasn't completely sound proof. Fortunately this was New York and she'd probably overheard stranger discussions. “I'll bet he's got bodies in his basement.”

         His sister rolled her eyes. “Please, he lives in a penthouse, which is on the top floor. They don't  _ have _ basements.” Jace shook his head, “He's not even trying, Dee. Are you Mags?”

         “He's a warlock,  _ the High Warlock _ , they can make spatial loops you know. He probably has basements all over the city accessible through his closet door or something. I'm changing my bet to several bodies.” He turned his head back to the window, watching the river glitter as they crept across the bridge to Brooklyn. Deifilia continued to gripe about the betting conditions, he mostly tuned it out, but caught something about bodies being too much trouble to prove and the fetuses not being a clear cut win or loss for either side.

         Magnus didn't want to talk about the guy. Actually, Magnus didn't want to go on this errand at all. It wasn't that he was against visiting a warlock, honestly he'd always wanted to know more about them. Hell, under any other circumstances he'd be absolutely  _ thrilled  _ to finally get this chance. Ever since their mother's death at the hands of demons, their father had lost all the meager trust in Downworlders he'd had, and kept his children as far away from them as possible. He'd continued to use his power as head of the institute to maintain that separation even after Magnus had reached adulthood. In fact, he suspected that it was only because of Dei finally reaching 18 that his father was willing to green light this minor “mission” at all. Despite being younger, his sister had always been more “mature”, or at least reserved, and it earned far more trust from their father than Magnus had ever been granted.

         Maybe he trusted her to keep things under control, or maybe he'd just ran out of excuses. Whatever the reason, his father had approved the errand and there was not much Magnus could do about it. So he sat, and he sulked, and the butterflies ate away at his stomach. He really  _ didn't  _ have an issue with warlocks, despite his best efforts their father hadn't managed to pass that hatred on to his children, it was just something about  _ this  _ warlock specifically.

         Alexander L’Morne. Magnus’ mind drifted unwillingly to their first encounter three days ago. A visiting Shadowhunter had been attacked by some unknown demon, returning to the institute with a new venom in his wounds which none of their healers had been able to identify or treat. It was only after they’d failed to save him that Magnus’ father had given in and called upon the High Warlock.

         Magnus had heard about Alexander before. He had a pretty good reputation with the Clave, as far as warlocks went anyway, he had a record of being reliable and cooperative. For the most part. He'd even come across a few pictures and reports from the archives now and then. They hadn't prepared him for the real thing. 

         Magnus was quite tall, Alexander was taller. He'd loomed over the small throng of spectators who had found excuses to be present, dressed all in black to match his neatly combed hair, wearing no decoration besides a couple of silver rings. What would have looked plain on someone else had a striking effect on him, more so than any embellishment could have. His skin, which might have had the potential to tan, was pale. It left no color to him apart from the blazing, unnatural cobalt blue of his eyes, a shade echoed in the pearlescent sheen of his horns. 

         Those horns had reaped the full attention of the room. Sleek and feather-black, they arched over his temples and curved up at the back of his head in a graceful S-shape. As far as Magnus knew, warlocks were expected to at least  _ try  _ to be discreet about their Marks. Most would try glamour, or a hat or something. Apparently Alexander either didn't get the memo, or, more likely, really didn't care. Magnus found it dazzling. 

         The High Warlock looked young, about Mag’s age, a few years older at most, but carried himself with an ageless gravity. Shoulders stooped and hands clasped behind his back, he looked like a great horned raven presiding over the crowd, and he spoke to their father with all due respect in his tone but words so ruthlessly blunt they had Magnus flinching in expectation of the consequences.

         The consequences didn't happen though. He allowed no room for them, simply said what he needed to, examined the body, took samples and announced that he would have results for them in a few days. Then he turned his gaze, piercing in its intensity, on Magnus. “These three are your main team, yes? The Institute’s permanent residents?”

         Magnus hadn't even been aware of Jace and Dei behind him. He remained frozen in place, pinned like a butterfly in a frame under that unwavering stare. “Yes.” He heard his father reply.

         “Good. When I have the results, send them. I'll educate them on any additional findings free of charge. Consider it a bonus.”

         “I would prefer to come personally. I can pass on any important information myself.”

         “I'm sure you're a busy man. Besides, I like them better, so send your team if you want all the information.”

         With that, he finally broke eye contact, nodded politely to Mag’s father, and left. Three days later the Institute received a phone call requesting that they come pick up the antidote, and off they went. The memory of those eyes had been haunting Magnus ever since the encounter .

         What  _ should  _ have been haunting him was his dead comrade, even if they'd never really met, or the fact that there was a new demon running loose, something -anything- important. They had a crisis on their hands here, and he should be focused on it. 

         But there was always a crisis. Shadowhunters were always dying, it's what they did. He was tired of worrying about it, and he was tired of worrying about his own mind too. He was attracted to that warlock like he'd never been attracted to anyone in his life, and it was distracting him from everything “important”.

         But, of course, it couldn't just be that simple. Even aside from the Downworlder thing. He still remembered the look on his mother's face, etched into his mind like a tattoo on the backs of his eyelids, when she'd overheard him and his sister arguing over who was going to marry Jace when they grew up. It was barely more than a joke, just children being competitive for the sake of, but the shame and horror he’d seen on her was unbearable. He'd promised himself that he would never make her feel like that again, somehow her being gone now just made it worse.

         Hell, he didn't even have a real excuse for letting her down. It wasn't like he had no choice, he wasn't gay, he was still attracted to women after all. That was the bit he always tried to focus on, for some reason he was attracted to both, which included women. He’d figured if he just picked one and stuck with it he'd get over the other. It never did end up working though, and he never could decide if he should hate himself  _ more  _ for it, or try harder not to.

         A dull pain above his ear pulled him from his thoughts. Magnus blinked and refocused his eyes, just registering that the car had stopped before Jace flicked him again. “Wake up, we're here.” Magnus swatted his hand, hard, before Jace could get him a third time. “I wasn't asleep.”

         “Call it whatever you want, but could you stop long enough to pay the woman? We have places to be, bets to win.”

         “Bets to  _ lose _ , in your case.” Dei muttered. 

         Magnus grumbled without comment and fished around his pocket for the cab fare. His feelings for Jace, at the very least, had died off years ago. Though more accurately, they had evolved into a genuine brotherly affection, complete with the same kind of sexual/romantic repulsion he felt towards his sister. So that was one less disappointment to fret over. Things between Jace and Deifilia, meanwhile, had developed into a parabatai bond. The stress of balancing out Jace's personality had already started ageing her prematurely, in Magnus’ opinion. But it was her choice, so what could he really do about it?

         The warlock's address was a relatively benign apartment building nearish the waterfront. It was almost too plain, honestly, and too innocuously situated. It sat within view of the river, at least from the upper floors, but not close enough to be trendy. No main roads led here directly, but the smaller streets had not quite given way to alleys, there were no notable shops, no seedy bars or businesses. Everything was more or less maintained without being too clean, and aside from rising several stories higher than its neighbors the building itself looked utterly unremarkable. Plain brick walls, simple windows, fire escapes rusted but not dilapidated, the place didn't try to deter attention through any form of threat or discomfort, it was just thoroughly uninteresting in every possible way.

         Magnus turned to see his thoughts reflected in his siblings’ faces. Dei gave a little nod of approval. “Well we have to give him credit for subtlety, this is the absolute  _ last _ place I would go to look for anything.”

Jace snorted. “Provided that was his intention of course. Otherwise he's just preternaturally dull.”

         “Hm.” Magnus acknowledged blandly. He was observing the roof line, where a modest overhang provided the only attempt at character to the building. “I somehow doubt that, Jace.” Something about the air there was off, as though light wasn't hitting it in exactly the same way. He drew a stele from his coat pocket, tracing over the well practised lines of a Perception rune behind his ear. If this was a glamour, it was a  powerful one. 

         The rune worked slowly, at first revealing only a faint shimmer above the roof. He followed the sheen of geometric lines to the corner pieces of the overhang, where something glowed a faint blue. “Look.” He said, grabbing for his sister's hand. Jace took the other, and Magnus lent them a view of what he saw. “At the corners of the roof, those look like spell anchors.”

         He focused harder, expanding his attention outward from the blue glow. There was resistance, like his mind’s eye trying to slide away from the image, but he pushed past it until something gave. A structure of red brick blossomed out from the corner, two extra stories of the building revealed. These floors were more ornate, taller, with a large balcony and what looked like floor length windows. The roof was lined with a second overhang, larger than the first, and accented by old fashioned gargoyles on the corners who glowed with the same light as the lower anchors. Now he could see that it emanated from a sigil carved into each piece. This new chunk of building didn't match with the first at all, as if it had been torn from a different structure and placed on this one's roof. Which, he realized, was most likely exactly what had happened.

         “...Well,” Dei broke into the silence, “That definitely isn't dull.”

         “No, and it looks like exactly the kind of place you would find spiders and cauldrons.” A mischievous light sparked in Jace's eyes. “How much did you wager again Dei? Twenty?”

         “Five.”

         “Five each guess though, looks like I'll be buying dinner after this. Shall we?”

         Jace led them cheerfully to the front door, where he attempted an Opening rune that fizzled and dissipated in the air about a centimeter from the surface. Magnus raised an eyebrow at him. “Looks like a protective ward. You probably should have expected that, all things considered.” 

         “Thank you, Mags. It is truly such a  _ gift _ when you drop these pearls of wisdom for us  _ after  _ they're no longer helpful.” Jace's sarcasm lacked any real punch at the moment, being such a blatant disguise for embarrassment. Magnus shot him a toothy smirk. “No thanks necessary brother dearest, seeing that beautiful mind at work is its own reward.”

         Jace reciprocated an acrid smile. Deifilia cleared her throat before he could comment, and pointed out the door buzzer. At first glance it only listed the numbers of the original 14 floors, though a closer look, through a significantly weaker glamour than what hid the apartment, revealed an extra button. Shiny and black, beside a small engraved plaque reading “16-A”.

         “Well I think we can all guess who's floor that is.” Without further deliberation Jace jabbed a finger at it. No answer. He hit it again, twice. There was a moment of silence, then a click, and a man's voice came over the speaker, staticy and distant sounding: [“Now is a bad time, come back tomorrow.” -click-].

         Jace stared blankly at the speaker, “Is he serious? He can't be serious.” and hit the button several more times before finally hearing a another click. [“Are you deaf, or just stupid?”] The voice hissed, sounding slightly closer now.

         “We are here by  _ appointment _ .” Jace hissed back. Rigid with indignation.

         [“Appointments are cancelled for today, get off my doorstep.” -click-]

         The air around Jace seemed to freeze. “That.” He said slowly. “Is not what's going to happen.” He mashed at the button some more before tossing up his hands in frustration. “See,  _ this _ is why we never work with Downworlders!” Before Dei or Magnus could think to stop him, he stalked into the street, grabbed up a stray bottle, and flung it, hard and true, to shatter against the 16th floor window. Then he marched back over and hit the buzzer again.

         This time the air actually did get colder, in an oppressive, threatening kind of way. The voice returned, clearer now, it was definitely Alexander's and dangerously sweet. [“Have you ever wanted to know the taste of your own liver?”]

         “Oh I am always up for trying new things, be my guest warlock-”

         “We're here on Clave business.” Magnus cut in, hopefully before Jace could botch this beyond recovery. “You sent for us personally this morning. From the institute.”

         There was a pause, then the hum of a hold tone, and the faint creak of a window opening above them. The silhouette of a head peered down from the top floor, haloed by a soft cloud of hair and no horns to be seen. Definitely not L’Morne, but Jace flipped it off anyway.

         The head disappeared and Alexander returned to the speaker. [“You three, right, that I did. Come on up then, but be prepared to wait a while.” -click-]

         The buzzer sounded and the ward vanished, taking the chill with it. Jace practically kicked the door open as he stormed in. “What an absolute  _ weirdo _ ! Who does that?” He complained loudly to no one in particular, crossing the small echoing lobby in a few long strides. “I mean first he makes all that fuss about us coming, and then forgets we're even supposed to be here? Who does he think he is! ...Do you think the elevator is going to be booby trapped?”

         “I think if he was going to kill us he'd have done it on the doorstep.” Dei sounded tired. “Might as well risk it, I'd rather not have to deal with whoever else may live here.”

         “ _ If  _ anyone else lives here.” Jace corrected nastily. “I'll bet he killed off all the residents before moving in.”

         “Jace,” She warned. “could you  _ try _ to be civil up there? This is somewhat of a diplomatic meeting, L’Morne hasn't worked with the Institute in years.” Dei pressed the elevator button and waited with arms crossed, clearly rattled. Jace scoffed. “I think we're a bit past that, what with the liver thing and all.”

         “Oh I don't know, it sounded to me like he was offering you lunch.” Magnus grinned wickedly, “Paté is considered a delicacy Jace, you shouldn't scoff at that.”

         “I'm glad you're having such a good time of this Mag, really makes the whole event worthwhile.”

         “Would you two stop? The elevator’s here, try not to kill each other on the way up.” Dei ushered them on impatiently, leaning to examine the floor selection panel inside. Magnus joined her, focusing with the still-active Perception rune. There didn't seem to be any hidden buttons, the options ended at 14. She pressed it and sighed. “Guess we'll just walk the last two flights. Best of both worlds.” 

         The elevator moved slowly, giving them time to observe the bare walls in tense silence. Deifillia, as usual, tried her best to ease it. “So what do you think that was all about? Demanding to work with us specifically and everything?”

         “Who knows, he's been pretty unpredictable so far. Maybe he really just dislikes Dad.” Magnus spoke lightly, turning to pick at a spot on the flaking wallpaper, hoping to hide his nerves. He could feel his sister's eyes on him.

         “I don't know… with the way he was staring at you, maybe he's gay? He seemed like it to me.”

         “Well if he wasn't looking at me then he's got shit taste.” Jace, though probably without intending to, rescued Magnus from having to respond. “Maybe he feeds on human flesh, and was craving Oriental this week.”

         “Maybe he has inhumanly keen hearing and you should both shut up before we make things worse.” Magnus snapped. “As Dei said, this is a diplomatic meeting.”

         He kicked himself mentally as Jace took on a gloating, predatory look. “Is that so? Or are you just worried we'll embarrass you? I see you got all dressed up for this, did your hair and everything.” He reached over as if to muss up the short gelled spikes. “Were you hoping he'd ask _ you  _ out for liver and monkey brains instead?”

         Magnus seized the extended hand and twisted, sending Jace lurching into the wall just as the elevator reached their landing. The doors opened with a chime, startling a young black woman who saw them despite the default invisibility from moundanes. She had a puff  of light brown hair and a prominent scar across her throat. Her pupils gleamed brightly in the dim lighting before she turned away, hurrying down the stairwell to the floors below. 

         They stared after her, pushing their way out of the elevator when it threatened to close on them. “Was that a Lycanthrope?” Dei asked in a hushed voice.

         “It certainly looked like one.” Magnus remarked. “I think she was the person looking out the window at us earlier.”

         Jace smirked. “Whatever it is, she certainly left in a rush. I wonder if that's the 'bad time’ he was referring to.” 

         Dei shot him a dark look, “Classy, Jace.”

         Jace only shrugged, and gestured from the stairwell to the other end of the hall, where an unassuming white door stood. It looked like some kind of maintenance closet. “Which do you want to try first? This perfectly logical stairwell, or that totally senseless door?”

         All of them, rapidly growing to understand how things worked around here, agreed on the door. 

         Magnus scowled as they crossed the hallway. “Anyway, don't act like I'm the only one dressed up. You both did the same.” It was true, they were operating as representatives of their Institute today, and had all done their best to look presentable. Deifillia was in full makeup, her black hair gathered up in an ornate clip, mauve eyeshadow to match her blouse. For diplomacy they had opted against Shadowhunter gear, bringing only a discrete few weapons. Instead of black leather she wore those thin stretchy kind of pants that were somehow a cross between slacks and leggings, and a streamlined little blazer to match. Jace… was dressed like Jace. Looking as though he'd just rolled leisurely out of bed, but had happened fall asleep in a nicer jeans and henley combination than usual last night.

         Battle attire was a hard habit to break, and Magnus had found himself in dark colors anyway. He wore slim cut black jeans and a close fitting navy v-neck. His spiked hair and long charcoal coat with the gold trim was as decorative as he dared to try, envious as usual of his sister's squandered options for cosmetics and accessories. Not that he was prepared to admit so, of course. Getting caught sampling his mother's makeup drawer had been yet another childhood drama for his family.

         Dei sighed in apprehension of another argument. Jace didn't bother to reply, just snickered dismissively as he opened the door. Sure enough, behind the illusion of a water heater, was a polished cherrywood  staircase.

         The first landing was locked, the second led them to a richly carpeted hallway which ended at a large wooden door. Magnus moved quickly to knock first, hoping to avoid Jace making another awful impression on their behalf.

         No sound came from the room beyond, and no response either. Magnus was about to knock again when the door swung open. Nobody was holding the knob on the other side, but the figure of a man approached, backlit to a silhouette by the massive window across the room. As he drew nearer they could see his hands were raised to chest level with surgical etiquette, and streaked with blood.

         If it weren't for the horns Magnus might not have recognized the warlock. Without the contrast of stark black L’Morne's features took on a completely different air, he was now dressed in dark jeans and an expensive looking but rumpled emerald sweater. The previously slicked back hair was unstyled and falling into his face as he eyed them thoughtfully, blood dripping into his sleeves. He looked centuries younger and somehow less menacing despite the circumstances.

         “Great.” He said at last, in a tone too flat to decipher as sarcasm or not. “Please tell me at least one of you has medical training.” 

         They all just nodded silently, too baffled or stunned for speech. Deifillia raised a hand as though in class. “Excellent.” He flicked a finger in Dei’s direction. “The ambitious one gets to help me with bandages. Come on.” He moved aside, ushering them in with a jerk of his chin. The door swung shut behind them, lock clicking into place. 

         They entered into a spacious foyer with cream colored walls and pale carpeting, the opposite wall was taken up by one of the floor length windows they'd spotted from outside. To the left was an old fashioned wooden end-table and an open doorway revealing what looked like a kitchen, to the right a larger archway leading to the rest of the apartment.

         Alexander used a foot to nudge Magnus in the direction of the kitchen, “There's a bowl of water and herbs prepared by the sink, next to clean rags. Get both and bring them to living room. Quickly now.” and strode through the archway in the opposite direction, presumably to the living room. He could hear him speaking loudly from there: “Blonde, there's bleach under the bathroom sink if you're thirsty, otherwise put that down and come hold these legs still.” Magnus hurried, desperate to know what could possibly be going on. 

         The kitchen was vast and brightly illuminated by the many windows, racks and shelves were crammed with every kind of herb or implement Magnus could dream of. He didn't spare time to explore, promising himself a chance to do it later. It was easy enough to find the sink, neatly squared off at right angles to the stove and fridge. The bowl and rags were placed as he'd been told, he grabbed them and raced back as quick as possible without spilling the water. 

         His sister's voice rose, carrying across the rooms. “What is he? Some kind of elf?” Alexander grew more audible as he approached, sidestepping a splatter of blood by the front door. It was still fresh enough to shine red against the carpet. “He is one of the Fair Folk, yes, most happen to be pretty private about their exact heritage. Also it's none of your business. Pass the gauze.”

         The archway lead to a warmly colored room with a fireplace set into one wall and shelves covering everything else that wasn't a door or window. In the center was a square of burgundy couches surrounding a dark wooden coffee table, everybody was huddled around the nearest one, leaning over a body.

         The body seemed to be unconscious, rather than dead, though it was hard to see clearly from  Mag’s angle. Jace was at one end, holding down a pair of dark skinned feet, a thick length of blue-black hair poured over the opposite armrest. L’Morne was sitting against the table, a three-legged bowl at his side, Dei was beside him, with gauze and bandages in either hand, her expression wrung between irritation and concern. “Well then shouldn't he be healing faster?”

         “Yes, he  _ should _ . That's the problem.” Alexander explained, laying a patch of gauze down on something hidden behind the backrest of the couch. “He's been cursed, it's keeping the wounds open and the bones from reattaching. Right now our priority is to stop the bleeding.”

        Magnus peered over the back of the couch for a better view. The body turned out to be a man with delicate and angular features, now pinched in distress. His ears came to high points and what looked like a birthmark in the pattern of a leaf ran along his cheekbone, clearly Seelie, as they'd said. His legs seemed to be broken in several places, bent at odd angles with the legs of his trousers cut open to expose large bloody gashes and jagged bone edges.

         As he watched, the warlock took a strip of pale bark from the bowl and held it between his hands, with a blue flash it disintegrated to a fine dust which hovered in the air. Alexander guided it down over one of the wounds, where it mixed with the blood to form a thick crusted seal, blocking off further bleeding. He pressed a strip of gauze over it and held his glowing hands there for a moment, concentrating. With a sickly crunch the leg spasmed and straightened, causing the patient to groan faintly . 

         He repeated this treatment on the few remaining wounds, then wiped the blood from his hands and glanced up, spotting Magnus with a relieved expression. “Finally, bring that over here.” 

        Magnus handed over the items as requested, Alexander took the rags only, passing a hand over the water. Heat spread instantly through the bowl, releasing a fragrant steam. “Thank you, now don't drop that.” The warlock dipped a rag, leaving the bowl in Magnus’ hands. The smell was soothing, almost dizzying, it erased the tension from his shoulders and he didn't think to be irritated by the commands.

         Alexander squeezed out the tincture onto one of the gauze patches until it was fully saturated, then folded the rag with its remaining moisture and placed it over the faerie’s forehead, who started to relax immediately, the creases smoothing from his expression.

         He reached a hand out to Dei, moving his fingers expectantly. “Girl, start passing the bandages.” 

         She looked affronted, but obeyed anyway, petulantly separating a strip. “We have names, you know.”

         “Yes I'd expect so, it seems to be the one common factor between the races.” Alexander drawled as he grabbed the bandage. Catching her expression, he sighed, softening his tone slightly. “And I will take the time to learn them,  _ after _ we get him into stable condition.”

         After securing the bandage, he dipped a second rag, using it to soak the rest of the wounds. It became a hypnotic pattern of dip, squeeze, wrap, repeat. Either everyone had stopped talking, or Magnus had stopped noticing. Eventually he heard the murmur of Jace's voice, then a hard nudge demanded his attention. “Mag! Are you high?”

         He squinted, puzzled, at Jace through the pleasant haze that had invaded his vision. “What are you talking about?” 

         He heard Deifilia say something from behind him, then Alexander was peering into his face. “Shit.” He muttered, and yanked the bowl from his hands. He snapped his fingers in Mag’s face, somehow jerking him back into focus, and materialized a small blue vial from somewhere. He uncorked it and handed it over. “Sniff this, and keep clear of the steam.” 

         Magnus did, and winced as the pleasant haze was ripped away. The sting and tingle of a sleeping limb recovering spread throughout his body, and his mind felt sharply strained. Jace was talking again, demanding to know what was in the water.

         “It's an herbal mixture,” Alexander explained, moving his hand over the bowl in a grabbing motion. The steam stopped suddenly, as though all heat had left from the fluid. “It- I said  _ sniff _ , not huff it like an oxygen mask! Give me that.” The vial was snatched from Magnus, leaving him with a slight headache and a fowl taste in his mouth. “Think of it as a cure-all for- For bad energy, if you will. It can alleviate pain or stress, and helps to dispel any residual malignancies from curses. However,” He examined Magnus again, pulling his eyelids further open to check the pupils, “too much can definitely be delirium inducing. He'll be fine, just give it a few minutes.”

         Magnus’ head continued to clear as he watched the warlock check over his patient, who appeared to be sleeping now. The frenzied energy had drained from him, leaving a slouch to his posture. After some thought, he waved a hand over the faerie  in a sudden motion, encasing him from the waist down in a pale shimmering light. He looked up at Dei’s surprised peep, and followed her stare back down to the unconscious man. “It's to prevent them from moving. The bones are set but not mended. If he moves before he’s cured, I'll have to set them again.”

         “What? What was all this about then?” Jace sounded incredulous, gesturing towards the Seelie in frustration. “I thought you  _ were _ curing him.”

         “ _ This _ was getting the wounds under control. I can’t begin to cure him until I remove the curse, which is what we’re going to go do now.” Alexander had moved over to the archway during the explanation, where he stood now, sweeping his arm in an indication for them to follow. At some point he must have magicked the blood off of his sleeves, because they were clean now, which begged the question of why he even bothered wiping his hands in the first place. “If you would.” Jace, his militant upbringing at war with his contrary disposition, was the first to do so, stopping before the arch with arms crossed. “And how long is this going to take, exactly? As I recall we came here to retrieve an antidote, not play doctor.”

         “I said be prepared to wait, didn’t I? Now, the quicker you move the quicker we can get through with this. To the kitchen please, try not to break anything on the way.”

         Jace made sure to shove by on the way out. Magnus caught the upward twitch of  L’Morne’s eyebrows as he watched him go, evoking a sharp pang of jealousy _ -Of  _ course  _ he’d be attracted to Jace. Apparently  _ everyone  _ has to be attracted to Jace, no matter how much of an asshole he acts like.- _ It definitely wasn’t the first time that kind of thing had happened, but it still hurt, perhaps even more than usual this time. 

         Alexander turned back to face Magnus, flashing him an odd little smile, the first he’d seen on the man. It did wonders for his looks. Not, Magnus noted with aggravation, that he needed the help. “You two as well, I’m sure some competent help will be useful by the end of this.”

         “If they’re the ‘competent help’ then what am I, chopped liver?” Jace griped from the other room. Alexander’s smile stiffened into something closer to a grimace. “I’m definitely considering it.”

         Magnus snickered to himself as he passed through the arch, Deifilia not far behind, their host seemed to be waiting for everyone else to get out before he left the room. It was hard to tell if that look had been worth the jealousy or not, but either way it felt good to hear someone else insult Jace every once in awhile. 

         Dei hurried to catch up, whispering quickly in his ear. “He was staring at you again, when you walked by.”

         “Thanks…” He eyed Jace, who was slouched in the kitchen doorway, poking around the nearest shelf, and wondered how the looks compared. 

         “It was better than the look he gave Jace.” She added, smirking, before speeding up to join her parabatai.

         “Why are  _ you _ paying so much attention?” He demanded, but she was already gone, grabbing a jar out of Jace’s hands and replacing it in a cupboard. They had started to argue whether it was a specimen or just pickled vegetables. Magnus flushed, hunching slightly in an attempt to hide it. He’d told his sister time and again to leave him be when it came to men, but she refused to listen. Always insisted it couldn’t possibly be good for him to deny his nature, even if it was weird. This was the first time she'd been so aggressive about it though.

           “I'm telling you, Dee, that is a distinct eyeball. It's a bit bloated, sure, but who knows how long it's been soaking. And look here, aren't those tiny lungs?” Jace had the jar back in his hands when Magnus caught up, and was pointing out several pale beige objects of various size and texture floating in a dark fluid which made it impossible to tell if they were interconnected or not.

         “I'm not so sure,” Dei argued, still set on the pickles theory. It must have been on account of the bet, because the contents actually looked nothing like vegetables. “That bit looks sort of like a stem…”

         “What it looks exactly like is a miniature di-”

         “That would be a pickled mushroom assortment.” Alexander's voice came from over Mag’s shoulder, making him jerk in surprise. He was looming in the doorway, arms crossed, with a tight glower that looked more like an attempt not to laugh. The others froze, until Dei uttered a quiet “Ha!” and snatched back the jar, replacing it guiltily on a shelf. He raised an eyebrow, reaching over her to put it back in its original cupboard. The man seemed to have a genuinely terrible concept of personal space.

         “I don't suppose there's a reason you're all snooping around my kitchen?”

         Dei looked down, biting her lip. Jace glanced sideways, suppressing a smile. Apparently “We have a bet on how creepy your belongings are.” wasn't something they were planning on admitting to. Magnus coughed on a laugh, sparking Jace into action. “Well we mere mortals do need to eat, it's not like we were planning to stay here for hours.”

         “Oh, bleach didn't quite hit the spot?” Alexander looked unconvinced, but also thoroughly uninterested. “Too bad, and I seem to be fresh out of Oleander tea.” He waved dismissively as he moved to the sink, washing his hands before dragging a peculiar sort of pot onto the stove. It looked to be ceramic-coated steel, and  was shaped like an upside-down bell. He began sifting through the shelves and cabinets, pulling out various herbs and flasks, some went directly into the pot, others to a cutting board or small bowls. “If you are actually hungry, there may still be bread in the pantry, you're welcome to hunt for it.”

         “And what about that help you needed?” Jace demanded accusingly. Dei was already going through the pantry, checking for anything interesting. Magnus joined her, curiosity getting the better of them. Neither were actually hungry, but they couldn't pass up an invitation to finally poke around. 

         “In a minute. Right now I need something to keep you pests busy and out of my way.” Alexander was clearly baiting him now and Jace realized it. He chose not to give the satisfaction of a reply, turning to join them instead.

         The pantry was a dusty mausoleum of things that may or may not count as food, depending on what species was planning to eat it. There were one or two of those obligatory boxes of forgotten crackers every home seemed to acquire, as well as some ancient cans and a variety of dried insects. Magnus lifted a jar of what turned out to be shriveled snails, and noted a pinkish bill exchange hands. Huddled in one far corner was an ambitious clan of potatoes, their young vines venturing desperately towards the meager light of the pantry door. 

         To his surprise they did actually find bread, half of a hardened, braided loaf wrapped in a thin cloth. It looked homemade and was probably delicious in its younger days. Jace snapped off a piece and bit into it, mostly out of spite.

         He spat it back out, wincing, almost immediately, and cast around for a trashcan. “I don't suppose you do much cooking around here, do you?” He asked the warlock, shuffling over to the bin by the fridge. “I live in New York. There’s restaurants, and takeout delivery.” Alexander replied, straining something murky and fermented smelling into the pot. “But speaking of...” He snapped his fingers over his shoulder without looking. “You, cat-eyes, come here.”

         Nobody responded. Jace and Magnus looked uncertainly to Dei, who’s makeup lent a vaguely feline shape to her eyes. Alexander turned around and sighed. “The green ones.”

         “Excuse me?” Magnus stepped forward, oddly offended and not entirely sure why. Alexander caught him by the wrist. It was a mild action, thoughtlessly invasive, sure, but not particularly forceful. “Green eyes and dark skin,” He explained impatiently, tugging Mag lightly towards the stove, “is considered to be catlike features. Or it is in South America, at least. I haven’t kept track elsewhere.” 

          There was no chance to respond. He clasped Magnus’ hand over a thin silvery mixing spoon and moved it through the potion. “Now pay attention, because this is a sensitive process. Stir around the edges of the kettle, clockwise, and keep an even pace. Got it?” He let go without waiting for an answer, straightening up to watch Magnus work. “Good.” He said, apparently satisfied. And turned back to the remaining ingredients. “Let me know when it turns orange.”

         Magnus eyed the murky green-brown fluid. It was thick, and had taken on a coarse, earthy odor, and didn't seem prepared to change any time soon. He heard Deifilia address Alexander from somewhere behind him. “So is that what you are?” She asked. “South American?”

         “It’s where I was born.” The answer was clipped and cryptic, as though he didn’t want to discuss it. That didn’t matter a single bit to Jace, who was quick to pitch in. “Isn’t that basically the same thing?” 

         “It wasn’t always. Now if you want to be useful you can go check on my patient. Don’t touch him. Just make sure his condition isn’t worsening, and let me know if he wakes up.”

         The sound of footsteps faded from the room, and were replaced by a rhythm of dull  _ thunks _ . Still stirring, Magnus craned his neck to watch what the warlock was doing. 

         “You should be keeping an eye on your task.” Alexander admonished without looking up. He was chopping small thorns off of a reddish stem.

         “I  _ am _ watching it, you could at least tell me what it is I'm mixing.”

         “Oh? And what does a Shadowhunter care about a Downworlder’s work?” He was keeping his tone flat, but something like amusement had crept in.

         Magnus felt himself flushing for the second time that day. It wasn’t something he liked to make a habit of, and his lack of composure was starting to piss him off. “Because I like to know what is happening right in front of me.” He replied tersely. 

         “I thought magic was beneath you people.” Alexander had began scraping the thorns into a green marble mortar, his expression still and unrevealing. Magnus was taken aback by the accusation, forgetting his irritation for a moment. “Of course not, we deal with magic every day. And besides, there’s no such thing as useless information.”

         The warlock changed demeanor, as though Magnus had passed some kind of test, and turned to him with another maddening little smile. “That is a formidable school of thought, one I can respect.” He moved closer to Magnus, showing him the contents of the mortar before crushing them. “These are raspberry thorns, which defend against assault. You see, a potion actually requires very little of my own power, it draws from the power of its parts. With the right incenting force, you could technically make one on your own if you bother to really understand the nature of things around you.” Magnus bit back a retort. He wasn’t actually sure if the guy was meaning to be offensive this time, or if that was just his disposition. 

         Finishing with the mashed thorns, Alexander lifted another bowl, containing small pale flakes which caught the light in an iridescent shimmer. “Mother of pearl,” He stated. “Whose purpose it is to isolate and nullify harmful invasive objects, or forces, potentially. And for cleansing, there is sage, the source of that spicy-sweet scent which is telling me you haven’t been paying attention to your job.” 

         Sure enough, to Magnus’ chagrin, the potion had taken on a rusty orange hue. “Did I ruin it?”

        “No.” Alexander chuckled at his alarm, but was quick to start adding the final ingredients. “I was paying attention to the scent, but you have to be careful. Keep stirring now, don’t change pace.” He scraped the thorn pulp in first, letting it swirl and disperse through the mixture before adding the mother of pearl. He pinched the shining flakes and crushed them to a powder between his fingers, sprinkling it over the pot like salt. Once that was finished, he took the spoon from Magnus and continued stirring on his own. 

         They were standing close together now, shoulders nearly touching, as Magnus watched the mixture lighten from orange to a soft yellow. He realized with some guilt that he really didn’t want to move away. Granted, Alexander wasn’t putting any effort into distancing them either. It was a pleasant closeness. Magnus found himself savoring the warmth of his proximity, and the scent of herbs and wool that clung to it. The mixing spoon glinted brightly in the angled light from the window, reminding him of a previous question he’d had. “Is that spoon actual silver?”

         “It’s silver coated Birch wood. It aids in purification, and is one of the few metals not harmful to most fey,”

         Magnus nodded, he’d forgotten that factor. “So even cooking with iron can harm them? Is that why the pot is ceramic?”

         “It certainly isn’t good for them, and yes.” He sounded approving. “This is the one I use specifically for fey remedies. Under normal circumstances copper wouldn’t be a problem, but in his state it’s better not to take any risks.” They stood in thoughtful silence for a moment before another question began to nag. “Why did you ask me specifically to help with the potion? Why not Dei, or Jace?”

         Alexander made a soft noise that might have been a laugh. “Well first off, the blond one is a prick, so that ruled him out. But… To be honest, you seemed the most interested.”

         Magnus tried to suppress a smile, flattered by the attention. People didn't often take an interest in his, well, interests. “I  _ have  _ always wanted to know more about Downworlder magic, I mean beyond-” He was going to say hunting, but thought better of it, all things considered. “Beyond what we're taught at the institute. There's just so much more to it that I don't know, like the potions, **[;]** were you serious about me being able to make them myself?”

         “Of course. I-” Alexander turned to give Magnus his full attention, striking him again with that piercing stare. There was something between surprise and joy illuminating his eyes. “If you genuinely want to know, I could teach you.”

         “I- Yes!” Magnus stammered, stunned by the offer. His mind was already reeling with the lists of things he wanted to learn, and he couldn’t imagine a more preferable teacher. “I want to know everything.”

         Some indecipherable emotion played across Alexander’s face, and he leaned in slightly, gazes still locked. Perhaps it was unconscious or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing, but he was close, and intense, and it made Mag’s breath hitch all the same. “You really are exceptional, aren’t you? I’ve never met a Shadowhunter so-”

         An intrusive cough shattered the moment, interrupting whatever he was about to say. Jace had slunk back into the kitchen unnoticed, and was eyeing them waspishly from the doorway. Magnus could have killed him in that moment. “Well I'm sure this is romantic and all…” He drawled, his tone mocking, but with something far more dangerous in his gilded stare. “But if you're quite done preying on my brother here, the faerie could use your attention.”

         Alexander straightened up, turning back to the potion that he'd somehow continued stirring even though Magnus had forgotten all about it. It had lightened to a pale, faintly luminous cream color, and the scent had improved to something soothing and nostalgic. “Perfect timing.” He announced tensely. “It's done.” He turned off the burner and removed the pot, ladled the mixture into a tall narrow glass, and strode towards the door.

         Jace blocked his way, catching him by the arm and muttering something inaudible to Magnus before letting go. Magnus could tell it was a threat by his demeanor, though Alexander's reaction registered only mild irritation and puzzlement. He nodded once and continued out, leaving Jace and Magnus to deal with each other alone.

         Magnus glared at Jace as he glared after the warlock. “Jace what the  _ fuck _ do you think you’re doing?”

         “What am  _ I _ doing? What the hell was  _ he _ doing!” Jace’s expression was a kaleidoscope of outrage and concern. “I know we were just joking about it before, but you can’t possibly not have noticed how he’s been eyeing you-”

         “Jace-”

         “Even at the institute! I think Dei might have been right, I mean I’ve… been around my fair share of Downworlders, you can’t trust them Mag.”

         “Jace…”

         “They always have ulterior motives for their actions. Him asking  _ us _ here instead of your father, the way he was looming over you just now, and you were-”

         “Jace!” That finally pulled him from his diatribe enough to look at Magnus, catching his vehement expression.

         “You must have- You… You can’t possibly have been ok with that, right?” Thoughts raced across his face until one settled, igniting a hard anger before he schooled it into an attempt at sympathetic concern. “Look, Mag.” He approached him gently, reaching out a comforting hand that Magnus was too baffled to shake from his shoulder. “I know we’re in a delicate situation with this new demon, and we need to convince him to keep working with us, but, you don’t have to let him do whatever he wants. I don’t know what your father might have told you but I’m certain this isn’t what he meant-”

         Magnus lost all composure, halfway gagging on an attempt not to laugh. Jace’s stung expression just made it worse. He took a deep breath, finally removing the hand from his shoulder before speaking. “Jace, you  _ moron _ . I'm not  _ letting _ him do anything, and,” He choked back an angry laugh. “I am  _ definitely _ not doing it for my father or the institute.”

         Jace stood frozen in place, stunned into silence for once, as understanding hit him. Magnus crossed his arms and lifted his chin, challenging him to respond carefully. Something had settled in his mind, a resolve of sorts. He'd found an opportunity here, one that some neglected part of him had been pleading for for years, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let Jace's misplaced sense of responsibility get in the way.

         “But- Since when? You've always said-” 

         “I did. And I  _ tried _ . But right now no one is looking, and I want to do something for myself for once. So save the heroics for the battle field and let me live a little, will you?”

         Jace sighed as Magnus pushed past him on the way out. “You always do things for yourself, Mag, what's new?”

         “Perhaps…” He paused at the doorway to look back. Jace's expression was hard to read, and he didn't care to try. “But I haven't done  _ this _ before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Moment of silence for the long, awful process of figuring out what the fuck bisexuality is without any help.  
> -Yes Alec is intentionally portrayed as mildly autistic, that's my headcanon and I'm sticking to it.  
> -Also everything is made of wood. So much of the editing was spent making sure the word wood wasn't used unbearably much in describing his apartment. Looks like Alec just really likes wood, who knew?


	2. Slow Down, It's a Science.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec is weak, Magnus is a natural phenomenon, and there may or may not be a mad scientist on the loose.
> 
> Title lyrics from [Black Mambo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49M1O2YgDfE).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry this took longer than planned to update, I've been sick for weeks and just wasn't able to edit coherently. Big thanks to everyone who's been keeping tabs and waiting patiently for the next chapter, I hope it's worth your while. <3

 

         Alec sat in awkward silence with the girl. Meliorn had passed out again after taking the potion, and they were watching for signs improvement. She was more withdrawn than the other two, spent more time observing than speaking. It gave the illusion that she was older.

         He chewed the inside of his lip, mulling over a sense of disappointment. The treatment was relatively time sensitive, so they'd had to administer the potion as soon as it was finished. She had been perfectly helpful, quick to respond and not at all squeamish. But he was hoping to work more with her brother, who had captured his attention like a comet on a dark night.

         At least he assumed they were siblings. They looked similar, apart from a roundness to her nose and eyes that he lacked, and slightly lighter skin. That, and her eyes were a honey brown rather than that enchanting shade of green. They certainly looked more similar to each other than the blond did to either of them. 

         -‘ _ Stay away from my brother’- _ he'd said. The little mystery bothered him, and with the sounds of an argument emanating from the kitchen, silence was becoming unbearable. 

         “So those are your brothers?” He prompted.

         She gave a laconic shrug. “Technically just the one. Jace is adopted, sort of.” The girl had her attention directed towards the floor, tapping her heels against the edge of the table where they sat. It was hard to tell if she was thinking, or eavesdropping. 

         Alec, trying hard to do neither, continued. “And Jace is the blond one?”

         That induced her to look up, if only to squint doubtfully at him. “Yes- You really have no idea who we are, do you?” 

         - _ Should I?-  _ “I Haven't exactly kept up to date on your Institute.” He lied. Alec had been keeping tabs, actually, just hadn't spared much attention to individuals beyond possible threats to the Downworld population. He knew there was a team of three permanent residents who handled things when the head of the institute was away, but they’d been harmless enough not to warrant further observation. However there was something naggingly familiar about these two that he had been trying to place all day. “Care to enlighten me? I believe I promised to pay attention at some point, and now is as good a time as any.”

         “Oh, yeah.” She brightened a bit at that, just like her brother earlier over the potion. Apparently this family was starved for basic levels of attention.

         “Well you already know Jace,” She began conversationally. “he's my parabatai. My name is Deifilia, and my brother is Magnus. We're the primary team here in New York City, operating directly  under the head of the Institute.”

_ -Magnus and Deifilia, what a ridiculous pair of names.-  _ He definitely would have remembered hearing those before, so that meant the siblings were probably reminding him of someone else. “Well those should be hard to forget. Very old fashioned.”

         That earned a small chuckle, followed by more silence. Meliorn’s color had improved slightly, and the voices in the kitchen had softened. He didn't want to think on how the conversation must be going, or what their impression of him must be. He searched for something else to talk about.

         “So is Magnus the older sibling?” That wasn't what he had intended to ask, but it was too late now. Something impish sparked in Deifilia’s eye. “Are you trying to find out if he's legal?”

         “Pardon?”

         But she didn't get the chance to clarify. As though invoked by the topic, Magnus came striding in with the speed of indignation. He carried himself tall and proud, storm gray coat billowing around him like a supercell, gold filigree shimmering bright as lightning about the edges. 

         The Shadowhunter certainly wasn't a wise attraction to harbor, but it didn't really feel like a choice. He was beautiful. A masterpiece of accentuated angles, agonizingly flattered by tight clothing. Strategically placed runes traced the exposed curve of his collarbone, twining up along the tendon of his neck to curl behind his right ear. Sharp facial features were complimented by spiked hair, flowing upwards into jagged points like a black fire. He was as breathtaking as he was unconventional.

         His pale eyes flashed across the room before settling on Alec with something akin to menace, and the scowl morphed into a smile without softening. All trace of reservation had vanished from his demeanor and Alec was struck with the sensation of being hunted.

         “So,” He began a little too brightly, coming to claim a seat on the table beside Alec. “what did I miss?”

         The atmosphere of the room felt instantly pressurized. There wasn't much space left on this edge of the coffee table and Magnus was taking up as much of Alec's as possible, leaning unnecessarily close to get a better look at Meliorn. He didn't know how to react to the sudden shift in behavior, and found himself looking to Deifilia for an answer. She only smiled awkwardly and excused herself to go greet Jace, who, catlike, was once again skulking silently by the doorway. His glare was focused on Magnus.

_ -‘Stay away from my brother.’-  _ To be fair, he hadn’t said anything about making his brother stay away from  _ him _ .

         Magnus declined the eye contact and turned further attention on Alec, nudging his arm. “Well?”

         “Um,” He floundered, distracted by a whisper of the other two continuing to underestimate his hearing:  _ “Did  _ you  _ know about this?” _

_          “Well, not exactly, but it seemed inevitable…” _

_          “By the angel, were you  _ encouraging _ him?” _

__ He focused back on Magnus’ tense smile with the creeping suspicion that he was being used.  _ -They’re challenging each other.-  _ He realized.  _ -And I’m the catalyst.- _ It was a hurtful thought, but not one he could do much about at the moment. Apparently a Shadowhunter, no matter how unconventional, was still a product of his upbringing. It was something he could worry about later, if he ever saw him again, of course. For now he pushed it aside and tried to answer the question.

         “Well, we gave him the potion-”

         “Without me?”

         “Yes. It had to be done immediately, or we'd risk the ingredients separating and the whole thing losing potency.”

         “Oh.” What started as an exaggerated pout became a more genuine look of disappointment before he smoothed his expression entirely. “Well how does it work? Is he recovering?”

         “Somewhat, it may take a while to know for sure. Curses tend to work much like an infection, if the treatment is effective it will weaken and break, but it's a process. It could take several hours.”

         Curiosity illuminated Magnus’ eyes as he explained. It was a pleasant relief, seeing some evidence that regardless of whatever games he might be playing with his friend's emotions, that spark of interest he'd shown was still real. 

         “What if it worsens instead? Is there no way to tell?”

         “There are some signs.” Alec conceded. “Though they aren't a sure indication of recovery, it can help determine if something's going wrong.”

        Magnus was leaning precariously far forward, examining Meliorn intently. It encouraged him to elaborate further. “See his complexion? Right now it's evenly flushed, a little on the feverish side, but that's normal, and definitely an improvement from earlier. I'm not sure if you were lucid enough to notice before -sorry about that, by the way- but he was pretty ashen. The main things to look out for there is discoloration, such as purpling, or mottled skin, anything that could mean the blood is tainted or flowing poorly.”

         Magnus continued an avid barrage of questions and insights at the pace of an electric current, and with an impressive comprehension for the answers. As it turned out, he had something of a scholarly passion for magic, and was working his way through every book and file the Institute had to offer on its many forms. Soon enough they were swapping notes.

          “Speaking of remedies,” Jace cut in abruptly, reminding them both of the unpleasant fact that he was still present. “at least I'm assuming that's what you’re doing, I’ll admit I stopped paying attention a while ago. We did come here for a reason, and it appears that you aren't too busy to talk, so could we get on with it?”

         Magnus shot him a venomous glare, which he shrugged off, leveling a stare at Alec instead.

         Alec nodded, getting to his feet, and tried not to return the attitude. He wasn't wrong after all, they were paying him for a service, not a social visit. Magnus could always return if he cared to, and at this point Alec actually owed them for the help.

         “Thank you for the reminder. I’ll be right back.”

         He headed for his bedroom door at the far end of the living room, closing it behind himself. The antidote was on a shelf where he'd left it, a case of a half dozen glass vials, capped in rubber for the use of a syringe. He could have conjured them to the living room with a wave of his hand, but he was already worn out from treating Meliorn and didn't want to waste the energy. Though more importantly, he needed a break, or at least a moment alone to think.

         Alec dropped his head back against the door, causing a soft  _ clack _ as his horns made a little set of dents in the wood. He didn't bother to worry about it, they would be lost amidst the thousand others he'd made the same way. With a deep breath he shut his eyes, releasing the air slowly. Social encounters had never been his strong suit, and today was relentless.

         He feared it was a mistake, trusting those three even this much. Letting them into his home and around his patients. Markus Boswit, the current head of their Institute, was notorious for his contempt of the downworld. It was why Alec hadn't gotten involved in so many years, and considering it had taken the preventable death of a Shadowhunter for him to be contracted, chances were not much had changed. There was no reason to expect this team to be any different.

         But they  _ did _ seem different. Sure they were rude, and in many ways ignorant, but that could be all it was at heart, ignorance. The girl, Deifilia, had genuinely appeared to care about the health of a Seelie stranger. Even the blonde, under all his bullshit, still lacked that stench of true hate. And Magnus- Magnus was a terrible idea.

         Alec dragged a hand over his face, trying desperately not to undermine his own resolve. He couldn't even place what exactly was so infatuating about the man, but it was definitely there, drawing him in like a magnetic field the second he'd entered the room. He was like a wildfire trapped in a jar, you could see it in his eyes, taste it in the air around him…  _ -That’s exactly the problem. It's like he's going to explode any minute.-  _

         The boy was a natural disaster waiting to happen, not to mention one of Boswit's Shadowhunters. Realistically, there was no telling if Magnus was actually interested in him at all, or just hungry for knowledge. Maybe he was just using him to piss off friends and family.

         But… There was still something about him. Something that couldn't be left unexplored. Alec sighed and scooped up the vials. He'd lived with himself long enough to know that he was going to give up as soon as he stepped back out there, all he could do now was kick himself over it.

         After a moment of consideration he turned to another shelf, where he unsealed a hefty iron box. Inside was a small array of talismans, three of which he removed and stuffed into a pocket before leaving.

         When he reemerged the Nephilim were bickering again, though on the bright side, they weren't touching his things. This time it seemed to be about Magnus, who was sprawled territorially on the couch farthest from the fireplace. He was engaged in some kind of staredown with Jace, who leaned against the hearth across from him, arms crossed and stance ornery. Deifilia was perched on the back of the couch between them, tense with the long-suffering distress of a referee. Meliorn was still blissfully unconscious.

         They went quiet as soon as the door opened, each making an unconvincing attempt to look at ease. He couldn't help a sense of bitter amusement. Their kind were all soldiers at heart, no matter what age, even in their least decorous moments.

         He'd noted when they first entered his home that they weren't wearing hunting gear, but was only now observing just how uncomfortable they seemed to be without it. It was like they were trying to dress up as harmless without being entirely sure how, each with a “minimal amount” of weapons half-heartedly hidden in the outfits. 

         The obnoxious one, Jace, was dressed like a clothing advertisement from a store window. Indiscriminately branded sneakers, generic, fashionably faded jeans, and an off white long sleeve shirt with a buttoned neckline. The weathered leather jacket was the only piece that had any real character to it, as though, despite the belligerent intensity of his personality, he had never learned how to extend it beyond his own skin. Half covered by one sleeve was a rune-embossed leather vambrace which almost passed as a men's bracelet, save for the hilt of a seraph blade tucked into it. There was a good sized knife hanging in a sheath from his belt, and elongated lumps visible in his pockets. Somehow the overall effect, in combination with his looks, gave the impression of an angel going through a rock band phase.

         The siblings almost matched with a uniform of slim black pants tucked into black boots. Hers stopped just below the knee, they were thin and light with no heel, good for running if necessary. His were a thicker leather, the tops folded down to ankle height and trimmed with brassy studs. They had thick heels and pointed steel toes, scuffed and worn by favoritism. Deifilia had a particularly thin seraph blade protruding like a pin from her clipped up hair, and a sheath stuffed into her boot, the pockets of her jacket were also suspiciously full. Magnus went for a different approach to subtlety with a thinly glamoured satchel of throwing knives strapped to his hip, and fresh battle runes that peeked out from under his sleeves when he moved.

         Alec wondered if they were only bothering to hide from mundanes, or if they genuinely thought he wouldn't notice.

         He cleared his throat, because there really wasn’t much else to be done for the situation, and stepped forward. Jace was in front of him faster than he could blink, faster than even Shadowhunters should be able to move. Magnus and his sister were still in the process of getting up.

         Alec tried to hide his alarm, an action made easier by immediate irritation once the guy started talking.

         “Glad to see you didn't get lost, we were starting to worry.”

         “How sweet.” He pressed the case into Jace's hands, forcing him to back up. “Here's your antidote. Since the venom attacks the blood, you'll have to inject it. I trust your people have their own syringes?” 

         He was treated to a nasty sneer. “Why, do you have complimentary ones lying around? That sounds wholesome.”

         Unsuccessfully suppressing an eyeroll, Alec pushed him aside, taking a seat on the only unoccupied couch remaining. It faced Meliorn's across the table, with Magnus and Deifilia to the right and left respectively. He rubbed his eyes for a moment, collecting his thoughts on the subject at hand before addressing the group.

         “Now, about your mystery venom, as promised. It's a self-replicating hemotoxin, which means that it won't disperse and neutralize over time, it just continues to spread throughout the bloodstream-”

         “What, like a virus?” Magnus had abandoned the combative air and was propped up on the arm of his sofa.

         “More or less, in behavior, but it's not a living virus. It's a toxin that has been somehow altered by demonic magic.”

        “You mean a demonic poison,” Jace started irritably. “we know that alre-” 

         “No, I mean a demonically altered venom. Let me finish.” He waited a moment to be sure he wasn't going to be interpreted again, then continued. “The first concern for your people is that it replicates faster than you heal, which is why the runes didn't work on your comrade. An Iratze can slow the process, so if there is another attack use one immediately, but they can't stop it. What I've given you will nullify the magic, halting the reproduction and allowing your medicines to take effect.”

         Jace looked suspicious. “You're making that sound incredibly easy to solve…”

         “It took me three full days of no rest, I wouldn't call it easy. But, it wasn't a particularly complex trick either. I don't think it was designed to be a challenge for anyone else, just… Nephilim proof, so to speak.”

         “Designed?” Jace’s attention sharpened. “What exactly do you mean by designed?”

         “I mean that this isn't likely to have happened by accident. Under the enchantment there was caterpillar venom, from the Lonomia genus. It's native to southern Brazil, you don't just happen by one in Central Park.”

         Jace looked beyond flabbergasted. “So, what you're telling me, is that a fully trained Shadowhunter… Was killed by a demonic  _ caterpillar _ ?”

         “A  _ bioengineered _ demonic caterpillar.” Magnus added, turning a skeptical eye on Alec. “You can't be serious though, what kind of lunatic would even  _ think _ of that, let alone pull it off?”

         “Well if it helps any, that's not all there is to it. There was also saliva in the wounds, and last I checked arthropods don't drool. I don't have the results of the DNA sample yet but it's in the proces. Now, as you may know, demons don't  _ have _ DNA. They have an essence that can spread through bodily fluids and in some cases taint the genetic structures of other organisms, hence...” He motioned to his own horns. “The creation of Downworlders through reproduction or disease. B-”

         “Are you saying a Downworlder did this?” Deifilia’s eyes were wide with horror. “How could-”

         “No. Not necessarily.” Alec interrupted quickly. This was exactly the jump he didn’t want them to make. “While the sample  _ did _ show evidence of a demonic taint, this is not how any species of Downworlder is known to kill. Not the wounds, not the poison. This is something new.” 

         “But it does-” She shot a glance at Meliorn and lowered her voice.  _ “It does sound like something a Seelie could be capable of.” _

         Alec tensed despite himself, straightening up and clasping his hands in his lap. He tried not to reveal any anger, as it would likely just turn their suspicion on him. “This was unmistakably demonic in origin. The magic of the Fair Folk is different, they've evolved separate of their origins over centuries, we would be able to tell the difference. The DNA results should be back soon, and we'll know for sure then. Pointing fingers in the meantime will only raise tensions.”

         “Well if all that's settled I've got a question.” Jace quashed the pause before it had time to become a silence. “Am I the only one here wondering why you seem to have access to a supernatural forensics lab? Because last I checked the only one in New York City was at the institute.”

         This time Alec couldn't resist scoffing. “How many years has it been since the Institute’s ‘excommunication’ of my kind? Eight? Do you honestly think there was no crime between Downworlders in that time? We’ve had to make do. I have my own contacts, and no one claimed they were in New York.” He wiggled his fingers pointedly. “I don't have the same travel restrictions that you do.”

         Jace still held an air of suspicion. He didn't say anything, but there was calculation in his look, as though he were searching for an accusation to build. 

         Alec pressed on. “I'm sorry, is it somehow against The Accords to investigate the deaths of our own these days?” It was a deliberate attempt to divert him. Possibly more transparent than he was comfortable with, but he had to try. The lab actually was in New York, and while nothing about it was quite against the Law, he preferred to keep the Shadowhunters as far away from Isabelle as he could. At least avoid them crossing paths more than absolutely necessary.

         Magnus’ voice was dangerously soft, addressing his brother. “It isn't, Jace. And as I see it it's a good thing he  _ does  _ have access. Unless you managed to forget he's using it for our benefit?”

         “Yes and I'm sure that's  _ exactly _ why you're defending him without question isn't it” Jace had taken on a vindictive expression, eyes narrowed to golden slits and lips pulled back in something that was absolutely not a smile.

         “It's better than you questioning him without defense.” The two were locked in on each other now, at once heedless of all present company. “How are you planning to explain to Father that we had a viable source of antidotes and information, but you chased him off because of-”

         “Oh because I'm sure he'll be  _ much  _ happier about  _ your  _ approach.”

         Deifilia set a placating hand on her parabatai’s shoulder and looked remorsefully to Alec. His mind was elsewhere though, wondering what their father had to do with this, and that nagging familiarity started to coalesce in the most unpleasant way  _ -‘You really have no idea who we are, do you?’- _ . He hardly listened as the snit continued.

         “Why, are you planning to accuse me of something? Because I'm sure he'd love to hear about your little Seelie ‘book club’.”

         “Do you want to wager which one will bother him more?  _ I'm  _ not the one putting the Boswit name on the line-”

         “Boswit. As in Markus Boswit?” Alec finally cut in. “Your father is the head of the Institute?”

         That actually got their attention. Jace looked at him with bemusement, Magnus looked away with something more complex.

         “Obviously,” Jace stated. “why do you think we live there?” 

         “Well,” Alec stood up, hoping to subdue his discomfort with movement. “that explains a lot. I thought you two looked familiar.”

         “Really?” Magnus muttered. “I usually hear things like ‘he never mentioned you’ or 'you look nothing alike’.”

         “Well you don't.  _ You _ do,” He clarified to Deifilia. “in the eyes and nose a bit. But you both take after your mother.” Dulcia Apsarini Boswit, if he was remembering correctly, from the Jakarta institute. Their faces fell at her mention, reminding Alec just how recently she had passed. Apsarini had been the sane one out of the couple. While not exactly on friendly terms with the Downworld, she had tried to maintain synergy. They were both early affiliates of the Circle, a falling out with Valentine some years before the Uprising had spared them the bulk of the Clave’s ire, and she’d been working to repair relations ever since. Whether her tolerance for Downworlders was out of guilt or merely to save face was hard to say, but after her death Markus rescinded all of it. The Clave’s close scrutiny  seemed to be the only thing still keeping him in line with the Accords, and no Downworlder in the city had been sleeping easy since.

         Alec muttered an apology before continuing. “It also explains why he was so averse to sending you here. As well as that…” He motioned vaguely to Jace. “That utter mistrust of  yours.”

         Jace’s eyes bored into him. “You and I both know there's more to it than that.”

         “Is that really so?” Alec paused in his pacing to meet the stare.

         A sharp trill interrupted them, Deifilia’s cell phone. She paled slightly after checking the number, and slid off the couch, shuffling into the other room to answer it. 

         “Speak of the devil,” Magnus drawled. “that’s him now. She always clams up like that when she thinks he's mad.”

         Alec resumed moving. “How charming. I always hear such nice things about him.”

         “You seem tense.” Jace goaded. “I'd almost think that you don't like him very much.”

         “Why, was I somehow vague about that previously?”

         Magnus glanced up with sharp curiosity, though not necessarily offence. “What’s he ever done to you?”

         “I could ask you the same.”

         The hunter's jaw set with a click, manifesting a turbulent frown. Deifilia returned before he had to answer, she had an urgency to her demeanor and the phone still clutched in her hand.

         “Jace, Mag, there’s been an incident. It's not one of ours,” She reassured as a tension swept over them. Jace's hand unclenched from the antidote and Magnus leaned back from the edge of his seat, both relieved but still on high alert. “but it might be an attack on mundanes. There was a housefire, the mundies are reporting a gas leak, but there’s signs of demonic activity.”

         “They're reporting already? When did this happen?” Jace was already on his feet and checking his weapons, immediately all business. “Any bodies?”

         “A couple hours ago, and no, though they haven't found the living residents either.” She plucked the stele from his hand impatiently and finished the rune he was drawing. The air filled with that burnt flesh smell as they worked.  “You probably don't even need this one. The police have already started on the place, and there doesn't seem to be anything still there, so we're going to be doing more sneaking around than fighting.”

         “Well shit if it's just a stakeout then wouldn't I be more useful here?” Magnus complained, tossing himself back onto the couch. “We still haven’t gone over all the information, have we?”

         The last part of the question was directed at Alec, who hesitated. He had more or less covered all the hard facts of their case for now, and every practical part of him was eager to get the Boswit kids out of his home and away from his patient. On the other hand, there were more pieces to this puzzle, including what had happened to Meliorn, and they were starting to depict something much more concerning than a few isolated incidents. It would be irresponsible to send them away without more information, it could even endanger them.  _ -They aren’t their father.-  _  He reminded himself.  _ -They don't deserve to suffer because of him.- _

         “It's true.” He agreed reluctantly, “There seems to be a pattern here that should be discussed further.” This did leave the issue, of course, of more time spent around Magnus. Appealing as that was, it was starting to look like it could put  _ him  _ in danger.

         “Well that settles it then.” Magnus declared with a casual flip of his hand. “You two go ahead, we’ll meet up at the Institute later.”

         Jace snorted incredulously and strode towards him. “Absolutely not!” He grabbed for an arm to hoist him up by. “Get up, you’re not staying here without us.”

         “ _ Excuse me? _ ” Magnus hissed, snatching his arm away. “Who died and put you in charge?” He examined his hands theatrically, “Wasn’t me. Which means I still outrank you, get out of my face.”

         “Mag, quit being ridiculous-”

         “ _ Guys _ , can we hurry up please?” Deifilia interjected.

         “Look,” Jace tempered his tone with effort. “can I just talk to you about this for a minute?” 

         Magnus raised an eyebrow, arms crossed and unimpressed. “Go ahead.”

         “Outside, if possible.”

         With a final roll of his eyes Magnus rose, standing for a moment to glare down at him. With the boots adding to his already superior height, he towered over Jace like a hawk facing off a particularly headstrong dove. “Fine. But as she said, make it quick.” Without another word he swept past him and out the door, coat fanning in his wake. Jace followed in a huff, slamming the front door behind him.

         Alec sighed into the silence they left behind. Across from him Deifilia sunk down onto the coffee table with a dark look. It couldn’t be easy, having to mediate between a set of personalities like theirs, she looked like she wanted to kick someone. “Are they always like that?” He ventured.

         “Like what, cats and dogs?” She laughed bitterly. “You have no idea, can’t get anything done without a fight. Honestly, I’m glad Mag’s staying behind, you wouldn’t  _ believe  _ what it’s like to try pulling off stealth work with them together.” 

         “Really? Even on missions?”

         “ _ Always _ . It’s like they both have such a grudge against the world they don’t care if they get themselves killed, and then they have the audacity to get  _ mad _ at each other over it.” She tucked back a stray lock of hair in irritation, then sighed sharply. “I mean, you can’t really hold it against them, things have been hard.” She relented. “Jace lost both his parents, his dad was murdered by the Circle right in front of him, that’s why we took him in.” Her words were speeding up, like a cascade of emotions gradually coming loose. “He’s had this sort of acting out behavior since I met him. And Magnus, our father’s always been tough on him, I don’t even know why. Mom used to defend him before- but…” She cleared her throat to hide the tightness in her voice. “Well, you know. He was kind of her favorite, things have just been getting worse since then.” She sniffed lightly, turning her face away, and tried to tuck back a strand of hair that wasn’t loose.

         “It doesn’t sound like it’s been easy on you, either.” Alec offered, unsure how else to comfort her. She gave him a grim little smile and straightened up, composing herself with a trained breath.

         “It could be worse. Anyway I'm sorry for dumping on you like that, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

         “It's fine,” He waved it off. “this has been an unusual day.”

         She gave another tense smile by way of response, seeming too uncomfortable with the topic to say more. Alec searched for something to change it to.

         Deifilia was impeccably dressed, almost businesslike. Her clothes were relatively plain for her age, which he guessed to be either very late teens or very early adulthood. Everything was crisp, ungarnished, and uniformly black except for a simple pinkish-purple blouse. Her eyeshadow managed to be the exact same shade, while her lipstick was a darker plum color that complimented it perfectly. The only thing remotely excessive was a large, rhinestone encrusted hairclip, and even that managed to look tasteful. She was a sharp contrast to his own sister.

         “That’s a nice shade of lipstick.” He blurted for lack of a better idea, wincing at himself internally. “It’s, um- distinctive.”

         It made her laugh at least, albeit in that choked off, trying not to way. “That’s probably the gayest thing a guy’s ever said to me, but thank you. Magnus picked it out.”

         “Did he now?” Alec felt a smile creep onto his face, the idea painted a surprisingly endearing mental picture.

         “Yep, I always let him help me with makeup, heaven knows he’s better at it than I am.” She fidgeted self consciously with her hair. “He’s always trying to get me to wear more jewelry too. Honestly I think he’d just wear it all himself if he could…” She trailed off into silence, not elaborating further. Alec wished she would continue, he found himself savoring every glimpse of Magnus that she’d given him so far.

_ -You really shouldn’t.-  _ Said a rational part of his mind.  _ -It can’t possibly work out, and even if it did, his father would find a way to make you regret it.- _

         “What else does he like?” Asked his reckless side out loud.

         “Ask him yourself.” She replied with a sly smirk. “He’ll be here all night.”

         Alec grasped for composure over the implication, masking his struggle with more questions. “You seem pretty sure that he’s staying, isn't Jace trying to talk him out of it right now?”

         Deifilia laughed. “The day I see someone talk Magnus out of anything, I'll be  _ terrified _ .”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming Up Next: Will Meliorn ever stop being passed out on the couch?
> 
> -Deifilia needs a goddamn break, what have I done.  
> -I'm really excited to reveal Isabelle and trying not to spoil anything!


	3. That Boy's Got Woe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title lyrics from [Woe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pR4V1ViNziM) by Say Anything.  
> Quick warning for sensitive content: Lots of tangled emotions in this one. Some vague reference to abuse, a bit of suicidal ideation, and a mess of unhealthy coping habits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaack!!! Sorry that took so long, things have been crazy and my life's a mess. Also holidays in retail means all work and no play, or writing. I'm posting this at 3am because I finally got the time to finish editing it @.@  
> I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think in the comments or on [my tumblr](https://basuralindo.tumblr.com/)! I'm always happy to hear from you.

         Jace swung the door shut and placed himself firmly between it and Magnus, considering a way to talk him out of this.

         Magnus was already leaning against the opposite wall, examining an imaginary flaw on his sleeve and trying his best to appear apathetic. Jace crossed his arms and waited, predicting another round of eye-contact chicken.

         Magnus moved on to scrutinize his nails, but finally lost patience enough to speak first. “Well?”

         “Why are you doing this, Mag?”

         “Because I want to. I thought we already went over this.” He replied, flicking nothing from his coat instead of looking up. _-This is why he always looks impeccable.-_ Jace thought, not for the first time. _-Too much time spent grating on my nerves.-_

         “Don’t give me that, you know what I mean.”

         “Do I?” He murmured obstinately.

         Jace released an exasperated sigh, tossing his head back to thump against the wall. “Could you accept, just this once, that maybe I'm not trying to fight with you? At least stop tossing my concern back in my face, honestly I don't know why I bother.”

         “Neither do I.” Mag’s voice sharpened suddenly, and he looked up at last to fix Jace with an acidic glare. “Has it occurred to you that just _maybe_ , I can take care of myself?”

         “Oh I know you _can_ , what concerns me is that you _don't_.”

         Magnus maintained his posture, only a twitch of his jaw betraying a reaction. It was small, but it was a crack, which meant he just might give in and talk after all. “Is that what you think this is about?” The edge had left his voice, settling back into a testy murmur. It was obvious that something had been eating at him all day, possibly longer. Magnus was always guarded but he had never been particularly subtle, the only challenge was getting him to admit it.

         “Should I not? Are you going to tell me it's something else? Because all I know is that you've been in this _shit_ mood lately, and now out of the blue sky you're chasing after some creepy horned bastard who threatened to eat me! If that’s not you being self destructive then do tell, because I can’t imagine what else it could be.”  
         “Now let’s not bend the truth here, he threatened to make you eat yourself.” Magnus smiled at his own joke, once again attempting to divert the conversation. It made Jace’s teeth grit.

         “You know that’s not the point-”

         “What is then, the horns?”

         “No- Damnit, Magnus, would you quit being difficult just for a minute? The point is that he’s a _guy_ , which is what you’ve been so desperately trying to avoid practically since I’ve known you. You’ve said enough times that you hate it, that you don’t want to be that way, don’t you remember telling me that? And now all of a sudden you’re looking to go bang some male warlock you don’t even know.”

        Magnus’ face fell, then the rest of his facade, like a sail losing wind. He drooped against the wall, staring glumly into some empty space down the hallway. “It's not like that.” He chewed out. “I just… I'm sick of it, you know? It's like I'm lying, constantly. I've been sick of it for years.” He spared a glance in Jace’s direction, but still couldn’t meet his eyes. Jace wasn't sure what to say, it was rare for Magnus to drop his armor like this. He’d known about the issue for years now, it had become a quiet secret between the three of them, but it wasn’t something Magnus had ever been willing to speak openly about. The philosophy until now had been to ignore it until it went away, or so he thought.

         Mag continued soon enough, still speaking softly to the air by his shoulder. “And why shouldn’t I be sick of it? What good does it do anyone, really? It’s been torture. Nobody who actually cares about me should want that. I just want the chance to know what it’s like, to really know what it is I’ve been wanting. That’s not so much to ask, and it’s long past time for the Clave to crawl out of the dark ages.”

         “That may be so, but what do you expect to happen when your father finds out? It's the first Downworlder he's trusted with anything in _years_ , he won't take it lightly.” All sympathy for the sentiment aside, this still felt like the wrong way to go about it from Jace's perspective.

         “He won't find out if no one tells him.” Magnus replied pointedly, turning back to face him. “So it’s really all in your hands, isn’t it?”

         “Mags, you know I wouldn’t do that to you, but why _him_?”

         “Why not him? He seems interested-”

         “He _seems_ like a predator! Who knows what his intentions are-”

         “Oh I have my hopes about his intentions-”

         “ _Mag_!”

         Magnus smirked, fingers tapping a buoyant rhythm against his elbows. Jace fixed him with a silent glower until the manic edge died down.

         Eventually he drooped again with a sharp sort of sigh. It was a quick, focused exhalation that both siblings had picked up from their mother, and usually signified some kind of mental resolution. “Look, you're just going to need to have some faith in me on this. I don't know how to explain it, I just- I like him.”

         “Somehow I had more faith before you said it like that.”

         Magnus threw up his hands in exasperation. “What else can I say? He's interesting. He's kind of funny, he's nice-”

         “ _Nice_ ?” Jace grimaced with incredulity. “By what _possible_ definition is he nice?”

         Magnus shrugged. “He's nice to me. And anyway, he- it’s-” He flailed his hands in some vague gesture, suddenly flustered. “I mean, have you _seen_ the guy?”

         “Not the way you did, apparently.” Jace relented, amused despite himself. It had been a long time since he'd seen Magnus get like that over someone, not since the first time he'd tried dating Camille. Hopefully his judgement had improved since then, but this was admittedly too far out of Jace's depth for him to tell.

         “Just, try not to be stupid, ok? And we still need that information.” He moved aside to unblock the door, indicating with a nod that he wasn't going to argue it any further.

         Magnus gave a sarcastic little salute before crossing the hall. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, turning to look Jace in the eye. A tangle of emotions wrestled there, excitement and worry, all boiling under a thin mask of confidence. “You won't tell Father, right?”

         “No, I won't.” This time Magnus didn't shove the reassuring hand from his shoulder. “Believe it or not, I'm trying to look out for you.”

 

*   *   *

 

        Magnus returned to the living room to find his sister sitting across from Alexander, having a conversation that fell silent when he entered.

       The warlock actually smiled at the sight of him, it wasn't big, but it was warm and lopsided and so utterly human that he was caught off guard. It seemed to surprise Alexander as well, who just as quickly dropped it and straightened up self-consciously. He had been leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, listening to Deifilia. They both seemed more at ease than when Magnus had left, and he was torn between relief that at least she didn't mind him, and a jealous fear that L’Morne might be getting along better with his sister.

         Then again, he hadn't been smiling like that at _her_.

         Deifilia noticed the shift as well, turning to give Magnus a sly smile of her own and waving him over to sit. Meanwhile Alexander made some awkward failed attempt to look welcoming instead of embarrassed.

         “So you two worked it out then?” Deifilia asked, focusing her attention somewhere behind him. Jace must have entered the room. “I won't have to come out there with a hose?”

         “No one can say I didn't try.” Jace proclaimed with mock exasperation, sidling in beside Dei. “Mags will be doing whatever the hell he wants, as per usual. In the meantime we should get going on that mission.”

         “Before you go,” Alexander cut in, having regained some composure while Magnus wasn't looking. “If you'll allow me to take up a minute more of your time, I believe there's payment due.”

         “Payment?” Jace's brief amicable bout came screeching to a stop. “As I recall you had arranged payment with Mr. Boswit, to be made _by_ him, _after_ you fulfilled your end. That doesn't change just because you didn't want him in your house, you can stop by the Institute to get it.”

         “I was referring to _your_ payment.” Alexander had sat through the outburst with an amused patience, fingers tapping against his knee. “For you three's help today. Unless you’re asking me to take it off of his debt, which isn't going to happen.”

         Jace was silent a moment, clearly taken aback. Were he anyone else he might have sputtered. “We don't need your money-”

         “I wasn't offering money.” Flourishing his hand like a stage magician, Alexander materialized three metal discs, which he sent flipping through the air to land squarely in each of their hands.

         Magnus examined his: It was a pendant of intricately patterned brass, about two inches across, with a silvery inlay forming an eight pointed star that twisted into little glyphs at the ends. Or it would have, if the points lined up. The face of the amulet was in two concentric segments, with the heart of the star at the center, angled so that its rays disconnected from those on the outer edge. Everything about it demanded to be slid back into place.

         “Don't-” Alexander asserted quickly. “-Are you people literally incapable of not touching things? It'll go to waste-”

         “You handed them to us, what did you expect?” Jace retorted. Magnus looked up in time to see him and Dei take their hands off of the disks. At least he wasn't the only one. Pushing past the urge to fix it, he studied his again. It actually looked familiar, like something he'd read about before.

         Alexander was beginning a terse reply. “A modicum of patience, at the least. I was about to explain how they work-”

         “It's a demon-ward, right?” Magnus interjected when the recognition clicked into place. “I've heard of these before.”

         “-Yes.” Alexander started to look pleased, then quashed it after a look from Jace. “You're right. These are commissioned by Shadowhunters on occasion, your Institute used to request them often enough for me to keep a supply…” He trailed off slightly, no doubt realizing the sensitive topic he'd just blundered into. Magnus said nothing. It was no secret that his mother's death was the reason any business arrangements had ended, and he didn't want to talk about it. He also didn't want to think too hard on the fact that the warlock had probably been making these for his Institute long before his parents were even born.

         “-Anyway, once activated they will disrupt demonic magic within a roughly four meter radius.” He continued quickly, turning to face Jace instead. “As you've clearly realized, the faces can be rotated to connect the pattern, that will activate the ward. However, it won't last longer than a half-hour at most, so you'll want to keep your compulsive disposition in check until you actually need the help.”

         “Thanks for the advice.” Jace snapped his hand shut around the amulet, stuffing it hurriedly into a pocket before rising. “Now we have to get moving some time today. Are you ready, Dee?”

         His sister nodded and stood. She had already tucked hers into her bra, along with the rest of her essential belongings. They both seemed to realize the value of the gifts. What shocked Magnus was how easily the warlock was parting with them.

         After showing the two out with a couple of lukewarm farewells, Alexander hurried back to his patient, hardly seeming to notice Magnus underfoot. He knelt by the sofa, checking pulse and temperature, even pulling open the man’s eyelids for examination. His previous cool demeanor was giving way to a worried agitation. It had Magnus wondering just how sure he really was of the treatment.

         “Is he going to be alright?” He ventured, coming to stand by the table for a better look. The Seelie seemed fine, the fever sweat had lessened and he was breathing evenly, there was no obvious cause for concern. This spot offered a view worth lingering for though. Alexander was kneeling with his back to Magnus, shoulders squared with tension and enticingly broad. A little cowlick at the nape of his neck sent the hairs splaying unevenly, and when he moved, his sweater pulled tight enough against his back to reveal the play of muscle. By the time he responded Magnus had almost forgotten his question.

         “He should be. All signs indicate recovery, it's just… so much slower than usual.” Alexander rose from his administrations and sat beside him on the table, still staring vaguely at the couch. Now that the others were gone he seemed to be shedding his airs some, and this close up the weariness was plain on his face. “Though perhaps ‘usual’ is too high of a hope in this case. This curse is new to me, and it's quite the nasty one.”

         Magnus couldn't help but agree, recalling the state he was in earlier. “Why would someone do that to him?”

         “Clearly you've never met him.” This topic, of all things, pulled a sour little smirk from L’Morne, though it disappeared before reaching his eyes. “It's a bit much even for him though, he could have bled to death.”

         “You know him?” For some reason Magnus hadn't considered that possibility. “What's his name? And if you don't like him why did you help?”

         Alexander emitted a soft sort of chuckle, and tilted his head for a sidelong look. “Well _theoretically_ he's going to pay me, and isn't that why we warlocks do anything?” Apparently he was joking, because something about Mag’s expression made him smile. This one was more real, and it lit up his tired eyes. There were dark circles beneath them, which looked to be weeks or more in the making. “His name is Meliorn, he's… important to someone who's important to me. Wouldn't do to have him bleed out in my living room.”

         “Oh.” The incredibly vague phrasing only made him more curious. “You mean that werewolf girl from earlier?”

         “Maia? No, she just happened to find him and knew I'd help. Poor thing is always in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Apparently reminded of something, Alexander materialized a slim black cell phone, texted something, then set it down and turned back to Magnus. “I hope none of you harassed her? She's mistrustful enough as it is.”

         His tone wasn't particularly reprimanding, probably because he was implying Jace more than anyone else, who's rude comment Magnus decided to omit. “No, she was pretty quick to avoid us. I guess that explains why.”

         Alexander nodded, an indigo sheen sliding up and down his horns with the movement. “She was trying to get out of sight before you arrived. Cost me a set of helping hands.”

         “About that,” Magnus held the warding talisman up to view. “this is worth a lot more than stirring a pot, obviously you know that. Why so eager to give them away?”

         “Hm? Well they're not going to do _me_ much good are they?” Alexander rose to his feet, busying himself with collecting his phone and an ineffective attempt to smooth his rumpled sweater. All of which apparently required that he no longer face Magnus. Something about his posture rang with embarrassment. “My old supply has just been gathering dust, maybe this will encourage sales again. Anyway we _do_ have business to discuss don't we.”

         He strode to one of the bookshelves, looking through it almost absentmindedly. “All jokes aside, this curse on Meliorn does seem out of the blue. The magic involved is strange as well. There are demonic elements, sure, but there’re other… other aspects to it. It's hard to describe unless you can feel it yourself, but the closest comparison would be Seelie magic, except it _isn't_ exactly-”

         “I'm sorry, but what does this have to do with Clave business?” Magnus winced at his own words -they sounded so much more rude out loud- and fumbled to repair it. “Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the information. It's just, you said something about a pattern?”

         “Ah, yes, sorry about that.” He turned back to face Magnus, abandoning the book search. “The attacks may be connected. I know on the surface they bear no relation, one being a demon attack, the other apparently a tiff between Downworlders, but I'm not sure I believe that. They're too… off. We know yours wasn't a true demon, and this is almost like an imitation of Faerie magic. There have been others recently too, smaller incidences. They didn't seem important then, but now-”

         “You're going on a tangent again.” Magnus informed him gently.

         “Right, sorry. These attacks, along with some others over the past few months, seem to me like experiments. Add to that the disappearances, and-”

         “Disappearances? Of who? Since when?” Even with limited communication, that sounded like something the Institute should have known about.

         “-It’s hard to say.” Alexander put a hand up to halt any more interruptions before continuing. “There's been a gradual increase from the usual. It is the Downworld after all, people die, flee, go into hiding, missing persons aren't uncommon. At first we thought it was just a spike, nothing large-scale enough to raise alarms, but it hasn't let up. To be honest there's been suspicion directed at your people. Though in light of recent events I have my doubts.”

         Magnus was at a loss. The thought of all this going on in his city without the Institute's knowledge was unbelievable. “I'm sorry. I had no idea.”

         “Sorry?” Alexander cocked his head, seeming genuinely puzzled. The action was almost comically birdlike. “What for?”

         “The disappearances, your people, this shouldn't be happening. It's supposed to be our job to protect them along with the mundanes. I'm sorry that the Institute- That my father, let this happen.”

         “And you would have it otherwise?”

         “Of course! Father's decision was a mistake, I've always thought so, this just proves it. It isn't helping anyone-” Magnus restrained himself from ranting, it never felt safe to speak out too much against his father, no matter where he was. Alexander’s expression was complex, but his lip twitched upward in what may have been a smile before he turned away, pacing, with hands once again clasped behind his back.

         “Apology accepted, though it doesn't sound like your responsibility to give. I agree it's time we started working together again, and I can only hope that Markus has half the wisdom you do.”

         “...Thanks.” Though the warlock’s flagrant dislike was refreshing, Magnus still wasn't sure how to react to it. The compliments were always welcome though.

         “Don't mention it. Care for some coffee?” He had stopped by the archway, finally turning to face Magnus again for the question. “I find that imminent danger is usually better discussed over a warm drink.”

         “You can cook?” Magnus asked hesitantly, thoughts veering to the wasteland of a pantry.

         “I can make coffee.” Alexander's eyes glittered with amusement, and he indicated the kitchen with a jerk of his chin. “You coming?”

         Magnus followed like a hound on a deertrail, wondering if the man had _any_ idea what kind of effect his jawline could have on the general public.

         “So these ‘experiments’, why do you think they're happening, who's doing it?” He asked as Alexander ducked into the kitchen ahead of him.

         “I was actually hoping to get some insight from you, in case there's been any other incidents of note from your end.” Alexander was exchanging the potion pot for a tea kettle on the stove, his back to the door. “Maybe between us we can rule out the possibilities more quickly.”

         Magnus took the opportunity to get a better look at the kitchen. It had a warm homey feel to it, like the living room, with rich dark woodwork and a sienna tile floor. Directly to the right of the door was a stainless steel refrigerator, bordered on one side by a high granite counter. A row of cabinets lined the wall above it, and hanging beneath them were several steel racks, one held a collection of stemmed glasses and the rest were filled with small jars and bundled herbs. The granite counter turned along the connecting wall where it held a two-basin sink, behind which was a large picture window looking out over the neighboring rooftops to the river, plants hung drying from the frame. It continued at another right angle, creating a sort of bar between the kitchen and dining room. That was where the gas stove sat, more spice racks cluttered on either side.

         To the left was a stretch of  wall, interrupted by the oversized pantry from earlier, that extended into the dining room. It was painted a pale gray, and decorated with a practically mummified looking wreath that oozed magical energy. Besides that it was eerily devoid of wall art. The room looked like it should have been the perfect place for a family, or parties, but stood bare of anything that didn't have a use, and suddenly Magnus was struck by the encompassing feeling of loneliness that seemed to echo from the deserted rooms.

         He found himself staring at Alexander again, though this time not for the view. There was something almost tragic about him, ancient and alone in his modern-day tower, and it was stirring up a sense of empathy that Magnus was not entirely prepared to contend with today. He watched quietly as the warlock turned on the burner, brought the potion pot to the sink and began rinsing it, then abruptly returned the stove to turn off the burner, and in some feat of strenuous laziness bewitched the stream of water to flow across the kitchen and into the teakettle.

         Once he got the water heating properly, he seemed to realize that Magnus hadn't responded yet. “I take it there's been nothing, then?” He asked without turning around, quite likely too embarrassed by the error. Which was just as well, because it was  taking Mag’s full effort not to laugh audibly, masking the visual evidence would have been too much to ask.

         Given the importance of the topic, he managed to compose himself enough to reply. “Not as far as attacks go, no. We've only had the one so far. We should start with who would even be capable though, that should narrow it down. Any thoughts? You _just might_ be more familiar with magic than I am.” Magnus perched himself on the countertop by the fridge, tapping his fingers thoughtfully on the cool stone surface. Alexander continued to face away, busying himself with grinding coffee beans.

         “Hard to say. Certainly not the Lycanthropes, wielding magic isn't much in their nature, nor is working with demons.”

         “Seelies? It's certainly complex enough, and they've been known to go above and beyond for mischief. I know Mal- Meliorn? Was attacked too, but that doesn't necessarily rule out the entire race.”

         “All good points, but why would the Fair Folk need to imitate their own magic? Either way, Meliorn is one of the Queen's knights, so if it's one of their own we'll have her aid.” Alexander had dug up a vintage looking french press from a cabinet over the stove and was carefully measuring out an alarming level of coffee grounds.

         “Vampires?”

         “Not their usual style, but there's always room for innovation.” Something changed in his tone this time. It was subtle, just slightly more clipped and stiff, but Magnus took note. “I'm already looking into the vampires. I'll let you know if I find anything.” Alexander continued. Growing impatient with the water, he used a similar -though more forceful- motion to the trick with the herbal mix and set the kettle whistling.

         The conversation drooped for a moment while he filled the press, letting the grounds float and fall as they saturated the water to murk. Magnus’ phone buzzed in the silence, a text from Dei. Before he could unlock the screen several more poured in.

         <(we found some girl passed out in the bushes covered in ichor)

         <(well Jace did. I was searching the house. It was torn apart!)

         <(anyway it looks like she was attacked by a demon but stabbed it with a stele??)

         <(I can’t imagine where she got one, she looks like a mundie)

         <(no runes or anything)

         <(she got clawed up though. Poisoned. We’re taking her back to the institute)

         <(This seems like a bad idea but haves insisting)

         <(Jace*)

         <(Oh no I don’t think she’s going to make it this is bad)

         <(America hello me be makes hey)

         Magnus puzzled for a minute over the last one before realizing it must have been an autocorrect issue. However she wasn’t clarifying, which was concerning on its own. Considering the previous messages it didn’t bode well at all.

         “That sounds urgent, is everything alright?” Alexander asked, he was staring with mild concern from his spot by the stove.

         “Um, yeah.” Magnus hesitated, not sure how much to share. Mission results were supposed to be confidential until it got looked over by the proper authority. He opted to keep it that way for now, seeing as he didn't have enough information yet and what he had sounded messy. “It's just my sister, sorry, give me a second.”

         Alexander nodded and went back to fiddling with the coffee press while Magnus typed out a message:

         <(??)

         <(What on earth is going on Dei? Did she die? Are you two alright?)

         <(Should I come meet up with you?)

         After a minute or so she finally replied:

         <(He put a fucking RUNE ON THE MUNDIE!!)

         <(Jace has lost his mind!)

         Texts from Jace himself were overlapping hers, creating a cacophony of notification tones.

         Jace: <(Would you tell D to calm down. I know she's texting you.)

         <(Look, the girl had a stele, I don't think she could have killed the demon without activating it so she must have some angel blood.)

         Dei: <(Well if you see a little ginger forsaken wandering around know that that's the one who killed us)

         <(Because Jace just trapped us in a fucking vehicle with it!)

         Jace: <(She's healing, the Iratze worked. I was right.)

         Dei: <(OK so the Iratze is working but we still don't know if that means she's nephilim or not)

         <(Because nobody's ever been stupid enough to try one on a mundane before)

         <(So she might heal first and then turn anyway WHO KNOWS)

         <(GAMBLING IS FUN RIGHT)

         Jace: <(Could you PLEASE tell her to calm down.)

         Magnus glanced up at Alexander, who had prepared two mugs of coffee and was again watching him with patient concern. “I uh- I have to make a call. I'll be right back.” He muttered, slipping off the counter and into the hallway. “Mind if I use your patio?”

         “No, not at all, please.” Alexander put the cups down and snapped his fingers. He seemed mildly put off, but the glass paneled doors swung open obediently to let Magnus out. The action was sexy in a way that caught him off guard, though Alexander didn't seem aware, and it was definitely not an appropriate thought for the occasion. Magnus mumbled a flustered little “thank you” and shuffled out. The sun was mostly set by now, he shut the door behind him and took a moment to breathe in the night air before returning to the phone.

         There was a little cluster of texts waiting already, he ignored them for now and called Dei’s number. She picked up on the first ring.

         [“Don't you _dare_ tell me to calm down.”] His sister's voice hissed venomously over the phone. [“There is _every_ reason in the world for me to not be at all calm right now.”] A voice interrupted, garbled by distance, then the staticy sound of the speaker setting and Jace's voice became audible. [“-don't be so dramatic.”]

         [" _Dramatic_ ? _I'm_ being dramatic? What do you call breaking the Law and risking both our lives for some- some little spit of a chick you found in the dirt?!"]

         There was a pause on both ends. Magnus broke it first. “Wow, Dei-”

         [“Shut up. You'd be pissed too if you had to be here.”]

         [“Look,”] Jace said patiently. [“I've already explained, there was evidence enough of her being Nephilim. I don't know why she'd be living like a Mundane any more than either of you, but she's responding to the rune.”]

         [“That's barely the point.”] Dei replied irately, though it sounded like sour resignation was already taking hold.

         [“‘ _Barely_ the point’? Then what, pray tell, is _mostly_ the point?”] Jace taunted.

         “I think it's mostly the thought that counts.” Magnus offered in her defence. “Personally I'd prefer if you didn't get my little sister slaughtered. Or crucified by the Clave for that matter.”

         [“Thank you Mag,”] Said Dei’s voice. [“I'm glad at least one of you still has your head on straight. Speaking of crucified, Father's going to blow his top over this, you'd better lay low for the night.”]

         [“Oh come on.”] Jace sounded reproachful. He was always oddly defensive of their father, perhaps losing his own had made him more willing to overlook parental faults. Though Markus’ favoritism helped, of course. [“I'm the only one he'll be upset with, it was my doing.”]

         Magnus’ stomach was already sinking like a rock at the mention. “That's a nice thought, Jace, but I think I'll take her advice.”

         Before either could respond there was a noise from their end of the line, like the half conscious whimper of someone experiencing a nightmare.

         [“I think she's waking up!”] Dei whispered urgently. [“Jace is she-”]

         [“She's not turning. I'm not even sure she's waking up, but moving is probably a good sign.”]

         [“Okay. Great. We're almost at the Institute Mag, I have to go. We’ll keep you updated.”]

         The call beeped to an end without them even waiting for a reply. Magnus grumbled a sarcastic “Bye” at the silent device, and returned to the kitchen wondering what the point really was of calling if he couldn't get a word in edgewise. At least now his phone might stay quiet long enough to allow for a proper conversation.

         When he reached the kitchen Alexander was waiting for him with the coffee. It certainly smelled good, though he still had his doubts. “Mission updates, I take it?”

          Magnus began an apologetic explanation that it was classified until Alexander gently clasped his shoulder. “It's alright, I understand.”

         The touch lingered for just a moment longer than normal before L’Morne seemed to realize, and jerked his hand back as though fearing a burn. He tried to mask the action by grabbing the coffees, handing one over and tapping the mug to set it steaming again. The consideration made Magnus smile.

         “I’ve been working with the Clave for centuries after all, and they don't change much-” Alexander glanced up from his prattling, meeting Mag’s eyes, and went abruptly dumb. Magnus realized belatedly that he was still smiling, and struggled to stop.

         The warlock cleared his throat and turned away, motioning towards the dining room. “A-anyway the- Ah, the living room is occupied. We can talk in here. Your siblings are okay though, I- I hope?”

        Magnus watched the backs of L’Morne’s ears redden as he stammered into silence, and couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. _-Did he just get embarrassed? Because of me?-_ Somewhere in his subconscious Magnus had figured that after a certain point people just grew out of stuttering. That this timeless, mighty being, who could reshape the world with a snap of his fingers, could not also have the ability to blush and fumble. And he could never have even dreamed that he might have the power to cause it.

         Magnus took a gulp of  coffee before he could be caught smiling again. It was a mistake. A bitter mistake that tasted roughly like gunpowder and made him cough when it hit his throat. To Alexander's only credit, the temperature was perfect.

         When Magnus didn't reply Alexander turned back to face him, growing mildly alarmed once he noticed whatever expression Magnus was making. “Are they not? Did something happen?”

         Magnus shook his head, some of the coffee had gone down the wrong pipe and he couldn't speak without coughing yet. L’Morne took a sip of his own drink, exhibiting no distress save for concern, and it was Mag’s turn to be alarmed. He emitted one final, incredulous, cough before regaining his voice. “What? I mean no, they're fine. …What is this?” He asked, gesturing to the cup with his free hand.

         Alexander examined the drink as if searching for a possible mix up. “Coffee?” He gave Magnus a confused look, then seemed to have a realization. “Oh, is it bad?”

          _-How can you not know??-_ Magnus boggled over the thought. Maybe it was a warlock thing, or maybe he'd burnt off all his tastebuds at an early age… There must be some logical explanation, right? “It's ah… It's intense.”

         “Oh, I'm sorry, here.” Alexander snapped his fingers, conjuring a little porcelain sugar jar and a carton of cream. He checked the latter, winced and flicked it into non existence, immediately to be replaced by an unopened one that didn't seem to be expired, and offered it to Magnus.

         Magnus  accepted politely and prompted him to continue on the experiment topic. Alexander obliged gratefully, relaxing as he went on until they were speaking comfortably again.

         Mag had started doctoring his coffee in order to have something to do besides stare while he talked. He resorted instead to furtive glances, amused by the way L’Morne gesticulated when he spoke, captivated by the play of light reflecting across his horns, how his hair fell into his eyes when he moved his head...

         And the man sure could carry on a subject. By the end of it they'd sorted out the best guesses of what was going on and thoroughly dissected the probabilities of each faction's involvement. The conclusion for the time being was that _someone_ was combining and weaponizing magics, specifically to target the weaknesses of different species, but with little clue as to the motive. As far as perpetrators went, the Lycanthropes were mostly ruled out, and the fae and vampires were already under investigation. This left warlocks (though as Alexander pointed out, a warlock launching a magical assault in his city without his notice would be highly unlikely), fanatic mundanes, or a rogue Shadowhunter.

         “Which,” Alexander continued, “would not be a first.”

         “Fair, but why attack other shadowhunters?” Magnus sipped pensively at what was once an excuse for coffee. After enough treatments of cream and sugar it had started to taste more like icecream than anything, and drinking it gave him something to do. It was still strong though, enough so that his feet were tapping a manic staccato against the rug.

         Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Why not? Valentine did.”

         Valentine. Now that was a name he hadn't heard in a while, sometimes it felt more like a boogeyman than a real person. “He's been dead for years. And the Clave has kept a close watch on _everyone_ since then, I find it hard to believe one of ours could pull this off.”

         “He may be dead, but the Circle isn't. Never underestimate the tenacity of your kind.” Alexander chided with a small, wry smile. “Especially when it comes to making my kind miserable.”

         “The Circle?” Dread crept like ants up his neck at the thought. “The Circle has been thoroughly dismembered, and if there were any surviving loyalists, why on earth would they be in New York? I don’t see your point.”

         Alexander looked surprised. “You haven’t heard? They seem to be congregating lately. There’s been rumors, sightings of Nephilim with the Circle rune. It's all over the city lately… I had wondered why the Institute wasn't acting on it.”

         Magnus blinked. He would have felt more shock if it wasn’t being immediately usurped by rage. If his Institute wasn’t keeping the Circle at bay, or New York residents safe, or mad scientists off the streets, then what the fuck _was_ it doing? He’d never had much success rebelling against Markus, but he was really starting to wonder if he should have been trying so much harder all this time. It was a complex and ugly feeling, the one that twisted up through his guts when he thought of his father, but, as always, now was not the time. Instead he grit his teeth and tried to keep the majority of the bitterness out of his voice. “Fantastic. Looks like there's quite a list of things I didn't know.”

         He was almost successful, less bitter than the coffee at least.

         Alexander furrowed his brow, clearly distressed by the information. “It sounds like your people have been dangerously uninformed lately. Perhaps you could speak to your father, we could set up meetings, keep each other up to dat-”

         Magnus cut him off with a sullen snort. “Believe me, my father would rather drown me in the river than accept my advice. I'm afraid you're soliciting the family disappointment here.” He regretted the harshness as soon as he saw the look on Alexander's face. It had been so optimistic, like despite everything he just sincerely wanted to help them. Now he looked crushed, and, worst of all, pitying. Magnus hurried to smooth it out. “I'll talk to Jace and Dei though, between the three of us we should at least be able to get the information through.”

         It didn't help much. His expression was shifting from pity to a chilling sort of anger. L’Morne spoke stiffly, like he was putting effort into keeping his tone even. “What, exactly, do you mean by-”

         Magnus was spared the confrontation, much to his relief, by a cough from the doorway. They turned to see the Seelie -Meliorn- staring at them wanly. He still looked sallow, and very much exhausted, but was apparently able to walk.

         Alexander composed himself and rose to meet him. Back straight and hands clasped behind, he was suddenly every bit as formal as their first encounter. “Meliorn.” He nodded by way of greeting and motioned for the fae to take a seat. “Glad to see you've recovered.”

         Meliorn returned a perfunctory nod, then cast a suspicious eye on Magnus as he came forward. “A Shadowhunter?”

         “Yes, um,” Alexander made an introductory gesture, though he looked uncomfortable about it. “this is Magnus. He helped brew the potion that healed you.”

         Magnus felt an unexpected thrill at hearing Alexander speak his name, realizing it was the first time he'd done so. He immediately felt stupid for it, considering it wasn't even directed at him, and the informality was probably to avoid revealing him as a Boswit, rather than any feeling of familiarity.

         Meliorn regarded him for a moment longer before turning back to L’Morne. “Had I known, I would not have drank it.”

         Alexander scowled. “You had very little choice. It saved your life. You might even find it reasonable to feel gratitude.”

         Meliorn said nothing, just stared disdainfully from one to the other, eyebrows slightly raised. “I see… My apologies for interrupting your evening.” He removed one of his necklaces, passing it across the table to Alexander. “Is your…” -One more quick glance at Magnus- “...acquaintance, present tonight?”

         Magnus felt his eyebrows knitting as his thoughts seized anxiously upon the words. _-Acquaintance? What is that supposed to mean, who could he be talking about that can’t be named in front of me?-_ He also wasn’t pleased with the faerie’s implication that there was something to interrupt. Not in combination with that question, anyway.

         Alexander showed little reaction, which was better than a guilty reaction, Magnus supposed. He was examining the necklace with the air of an appraiser, frowning as he prodded the wire-wrapped pendant. “Did I mention your injuries were on their way to killing you?” He asked Meliorn pointedly. “That wasn’t your average curse, _and_ it interfered with an important appointment.” He tapped a finger impatiently against the table. The Seelie’s mouth twisted in a slight frown, then he sighed and handed over an ornate dagger as well. Alexander took it with an insincere smile. “It’s a discount, but this should cover it. Though you’re always welcome to buy them back later, with actual currency.”

         He magicked the items away, presumably for safe keeping, before finally answering the question. “And no, she hasn’t been by. Which is probably fortunate for you as far as I’ve been hearing recently.” His tone was accusatory. Meliorn made a sour expression, but didn’t comment further. Magnus was left utterly bewildered by the exchange so far.

         “Anyway,” The warlock continued. “about that curse. I would appreciate any information you could give me about your attack, and assailant, if possible.”

         “For what price?” Meliorn inquired coolly.

         “Filling in for the discount. It's not the first time you've underpaid me, and the information could allow me to treat your people more efficiently should this happen again.”

         “You agreed to the payments at the time, they are no longer negotiable.” The Seelie smirked. “And who is to say my information won't allow me to deal with any future incidents on my own?”

         Magnus tried not to groan. They were haggling, he couldn’t _stand_ haggling.

         “This mystery assailant isn't the only threat to your well-being that I can help with.” A vicious smile played across Alexander’s lips. It revealed slightly jagged teeth, which was… significantly more interesting to Magnus than he had expected the inside of his mouth to be. At a distance, that is.

         “I’ve held my own so far.”

         Alexander sighed in frustration. “I’ll give back the pendant. Final offer.”

         “In addition to the aid in both areas?” Meliorn’s expression gave just slightly, enough to reveal that he was ready to accept.

         Alexander considered for a moment. “Only on the condition that you keep me updated with relevant information. And,” He continued before Meliorn could speak. “let’s stop pretending that you don’t need my expertise for this.”

         The faerie smiled mirthlessly. “A deal, then. But not with him present.” He indicated Magnus, unsurprisingly, without so much as a glance in his direction. Alexander turned to him with an apology, but Magnus was already standing.

         “It’s fine. I'll wait out on the balcony, it’s a nice view from there.” He gave the warlock a reassuring smile, and the Seelie a much less friendly one, then gathered up his coffee and left. The “You haven't met him” comment was starting to make more sense by the minute.

         He took the cream and sugar back to the kitchen with him, since it was clear that Alexander didn't have a sense of taste enough to require them. That, or he genuinely enjoyed the flavor of bitter earth. Either way, he didn't need them and Magnus didn't want to leave Meliorn the mercy. He brought the cream to the fridge in hopes of it surviving for another visit, pausing, of course, for a quick snoop. Inside was mostly occupied by a collection of Tupperware holding food in various stages of aging, though the top shelf seemed to be reserved for jars of spell ingredients. There were a couple condiments on the door, a half full bottle of wine, and a little cluster of tinted glass bottles wedged into one corner. A styrofoam box near the front was marked with sprawling black handwriting that read: ‘Lunch. Don’t forget to eat again, nobody's that immortal! XO -Iz’ and a date from two days ago.

         Magnus frowned, wedging the cream in with the condiments and shutting the door hard. _-So much for lonely. And here I was starting to feel sorry for you.-_

         Whatever. It was stupid of him to expect any different in the first place, what with a good looking rich guy like that… He shook off the thought as he stepped out onto the balcony. It didn't matter anyway, he was only looking to experiment right? And it certainly wasn't the first time he'd met a Downworlder with multiple partners.

         It was just… He remembered the blush and stutter, the uncontrolled smile when he entered the room. It didn't add up. He couldn't be like that with everyone, could he? Maybe this “Iz” who left him lunch with little XOs on it was somehow not a romantic partner.

         Unlikely. He wondered if Iz was also the “acquaintance” they'd mentioned, the one he'd referred to as “she”. It wasn't impossible, Magnus supposed, for Alexander to be like the fey in that aspect. He just hadn't expected it for some reason, and it was surprisingly frustrating to realize that he had no idea.

         A thought struck him then, and he fished his phone from his pocket, apprehensively texting his sister.

         <(When you were alone together, did L’Morne flirt with you?)

         There was no response for a bit, just the sounds of the city. With surprisingly little noise from the apartment. None, in fact. Magnus wandered across the deck, peeking into the windows. He could see the two talking, at a normal volume by the looks of it, but not even a murmur escaped the glass. He realized that the place must be soundproofed. It had to be a spell, since it wasn't noticeable from the inside, and he amused himself with trying to identify its components until Deifilia replied.

         <(What?? No!)

         <(Why?)

         <(Actually don't answer that. Now is not the time)

         Magnus sighed. It was a mild relief, but still left too much room to overthink. He took a deep breath of the night air, trying to clear his head. It smelled like humanity and car fumes and distant kitchens, all tangled up with the scent of the river.

 _-Now that must be pretty sight from here.-_ He scanned the view for the rippling glow of lights on water, moving to the edge of the balcony for a better look. A wind rose from between the buildings, catching in his hair and urging him to look down. He shouldn't have complied.

         Magnus wasn't exactly afraid of heights, it was more that heights made him afraid of himself. It was that sudden dizzying urge to lean just a little further over the edge, which he'd never quite managed to convince himself was vertigo. It was worse at night. Especially nights like this, when it didn't feel like he had a home to return to. The chill of the wind, the muted sounds of a city settling down, all blending together with the memories of every other night he'd spent wandering alone with nowhere to go.

         So it was that he found himself once again just a little too high up for safety, glaring down at the pavement below. Daring his would-be treacherous feet to take one final step too far.

         “It really is a beautiful view, isn't it?” Alexander's voice carried gently from the doorway, nudging Magnus out of unpleasant musings. He turned to see the warlock standing there, mug in hand, with an almost sad expression. “Mind if I join you?”

         Magnus indicated the space to his right in silent invitation, he hadn't quite recuperated from his thoughts enough to speak comfortably yet. Alexander didn't seem to mind. He came to lean on the railing beside him, staring pensively into the night, and let the silence hang between them for a time.

         Magnus watched Alexander watch the city, not really caring at the moment if he noticed. He looked even more worn out now, probably the aftermath of a day spent healing that Seelie. Something glimmered at his throat, the telltale waiver of a glamour weakening, one that had stayed well hidden until now. Magnus watched with keen interest as it faded to reveal a smattering of fine black scales creeping down the nape of his neck. They splayed out in little arcs and swirls, with one cluster zigzagging up the side of his neck to run along his jawline. _-So there are things that he's ashamed of after all. What a pity.-_ Alexander spoke before Magnus could think much more on it.

        “I love high places. Do you?” His tone was odd, more like the beginning of a story than a conversation. Magnus shrugged, weary of where this was going. Alexander nodded, still focused into the distance. “My favorite part is the feeling of freedom you get up here. There's nothing else quite like it. I know not everyone feels the same.” He conceded. “Some are afraid, and some just don’t feel free enough in themselves to appreciate it.” That last part was less than subtly directed at Magnus. He continued after a weighted pause. “I used to hate it too.”

         Magnus didn’t reply, didn’t exactly want to have this conversation, he just stared quietly and let the words wash over him. He was watching the warlock’s hands as they traced slow circles around the rim of his cup. Light poured from his fingertips, spilling over the mug until it held a soft white glow of its own.“I used to feel like I would be better off falling.” It was hard to say if it was his words which startled Magnus, or that he suddenly let go of the mug.

         They watched it fall like a star into the dark, ending with a sick crunch and splatter on the street below. The glow was still faintly visible, spreading out in an amorphous corona from the point of impact. It made Magnus shudder. Alexander smiled unhappily. “It’s disappointing in practice, don’t you think? There went all potential. All value. All for a short flight and an underwhelming sound. By morning it’ll be nothing more than another stain on the sidewalk, never to be missed. It makes me think there must be a better use of my time than that. Some more worthwhile, less literal, impact I could have on the world.”

         Magnus chuckled suddenly, letting his mug drop too. Same crunch, same splatter, same descent into complete irrelevance. It was hard logic to disagree with. “If life is pointless, death must be even more so.”

         Alexander grimaced. “That's… Close enough to the point, I suppose.”

         Magnus shrugged, it was close enough for him. He opened his mouth to speak, but realized he wasn’t actually sure what he wanted to say. _Thank you? Mind your own business?_ The buzz of his phone spared him from having to figure it out. More texts from Dei:

         <(Well that was unpleasant. The ginger is still unconscious, father is sending word to the clave, the coast is about as clear as it's going to get)

        <(But what's going on with L’Morne? Practically all he did was ask me questions about you)

         <(Did something happen?)

         Magnus had almost forgotten about that little insecurity in lieu of everything else. At the moment it was actually a welcome distraction, he'd had just about enough of emotional intimacy for one day.

         <(No, sadly, but the night is still young.) He replied lightheartedly.

         Returning his attention to Alexander, he was met with an uncertain stare. _-Good. That's what you get for trying to spring life lessons on people.-_ Magnus abruptly decided that he was done with their previous topic. “So,” He said aloud. “who is this 'acquaintance’ the Seelie was asking about?”

         Alexander looked baffled by the question. Still not guilty though, which was either a good sign or a terrible one. “…A mutual friend, more or less. Why?”

          _-Vague!-_ “No reason.” He turned his back to the railing and looked Alexander over, dropping his voice to a more sultry cadence. “Would this ‘friend’ have a problem with me being here?”

         Alexander made a choked noise -a laugh?-, it was hard to decipher his expression as humor or disgust, maybe a bit of both? “She's not that kind of friend.”

         Magnus hummed an acknowledgement. He still wondered if ‘the friend’ and ‘Iz’ were the same person, but that could be a puzzle for another time. The warlock glanced up suddenly. “It's getting late. Would you allow me to walk you home?”

         Magnus shook off the remnants of unwelcome emotions. It was a kind offer, made with such sincerity it made him want to recoil all the more. What remained was a desperate need to be somewhere -anywhere- other than home.

         He threw on a smile, leaned back against the railing, tilting his head and letting his coat slip slightly off his shoulders. “So soon? Are you really in that much of a hurry to get rid of me?” He knew it was an attractive pose, and he’d mastered the seductive voice, it worked like a charm every time. There was no reason it shouldn't be just as effective on a man.

         Alexander swallowed hard, but withdrew slightly, growing even more formal. “Not at all, but I'm sure the head of the Institute would love an excuse to incriminate me, and I doubt he'd take kindly to my keeping his son this late into the night. There is diplomacy to consider.”

          _-Oh for fuck’s sake, do I look like I want a gentleman right now?-_ He caught the warlock’s gaze tracking down his neckline, but was hoping for more of a reaction than that. He rolled his eyes and sighed, performing an aesthetic slouch. “Please, he won't even notice I'm gone. Never does so long as the two important ones are home.” He moved on to languidly examine his nails. “Besides, you're too useful right now for him to pick a fight with. We could get away with a couple drinks...”

         When he looked back at Alexander the desire had left his gaze, replaced by bemusement and possibly a hint of irritation. “Are you asking me to get you drunk?”

         Magnus weighed his answers for a moment before replying, slightly irritated himself. “Well if we're being blunt, then yes. Come on you must have something other than coffee in all those cupboards. I believe I saw champagne glasses?”

         It was Alexander’s turn to sigh, apparently. He gave a stiff, closed smile. “Maybe another time. For now I-”

         “Fine then, dinner.” Magnus insisted. Ditching the pose and crossing his arms. “There’s no harm in dinner. I know for a fact that neither of us have eaten in what, five hours? At least? Warlocks must have to eat too, take me to one of those restaurants you mentioned.”

         Alexander looked like he was about to refuse again and Magnus had come as close to begging as his pride would allow, so he shrugged his jacket back onto his shoulders and prepared to leave.

         “Fine.”

         Magnus looked up in surprise. “-What?”

         Alexander shrugged. “Why not? Dinner it is. I'll pay.”

         Magnus searched his face suspiciously for some sign that he was being fucked with, or pitied, but was only met with a challenging smile. “Really?” He tried and failed to hide his surprise. It only made the smile widen.

         “Yes. Really.” Alexander waved Magnus back into the foyer, where he pulled a black coat and felt hat from a hook on the wall. The hat was wide brimmed, ungarnished, and clearly enchanted as it stretched to accommodate his horns before appearing to return to its original shape. The coat had a high collar which covered his neck and its scales. With them on he looked almost perfectly human. “I hope you don’t mind Downworlders,” He continued with a hint of sarcasm. “because I don’t really have the energy to glamour up for a mundane restaurant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... that's that, then. Jace finally fucked off, Meliorn is finally conscious, Clary is in the picture, and day 1 is finally over. Now I can move on with the story.  
> I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts and theories on "Iz"! It's a fun challenge introducing characters everyone's familiar with in a new and interesting way, and I'm excited to introduce my version of Isabelle next chapter, which ideally won't take two months or however long this has been. Thanks for sticking around guys, and if you're new, thanks for coming by! Stay tuned for my favorite minor antagonist appearing next chapter!
> 
> (ps. Did Alec just stash shit in his pocket, then use magic instead of pulling it out manually for dramatic effect? Yes, yes he did.)


	4. Heaven Ain't Close in a Place Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title lyrics from [Somebody Told Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9ijoe1V5bU).  
> So I wanted to take the opportunity to give a glimpse of Magnus' home life, reintroduce the characters from an outsider's perspective, and put a bit of a backstory on Alexander. I hope it rounds out the world some without boring anyone. Also, plot thickening and introducing some new characters!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again, thanks for sticking around/coming by.  
> So if you want to help me write and post these chapters quicker by cutting down time spent researching everyday life details, please swing by my tumblr to check out [a questionnaire](https://basuralindo.tumblr.com/post/168510826744/mainland-americans-i-need-information-for). Thing is, I live in a small town on a small island, so there's just some things about life in mainland cities that I do. not. get. And they're so simple that it's actually hard to google detailed answers. So if you could message me, or even comment on this chapter, with answers it could take hours of work of my back. As always, much love and thanks for reading!
> 
> This chapter has some homophobia but nothing too traumatic. It's along the lines of an unaccepting home environment, so if that stresses you out please take care of yourself and proceed with caution.

 

         Clary had spent her morning in a flurry of awe and frustration. She hadn't had time to stop reeling from the massive turn her life had taken, there was so much to absorb she just felt numb. It was like being thrown into some kind of fairytale, unfortunately more Grimm than Disney.

         There had been a lot of concepts explained to her all at once, and every time it only prompted the need for more explanations. By the time she was through being questioned about things she didn't understand from the worst night of her life, all she wanted was some decent food and a few thousand years of sleep. What she was settling for was hopefully a real shower. She had gotten hastily cleaned up in a half delirious funk earlier, and it hadn't really done much for the smell or her overall feeling of grimy malaise.

         At least Jace was being nice -a bit sarcastic- but there was kindness under it, which was such a relief that it had started to feel a little like stockholm syndrome. Everyone else was treating her like some kind of uncontained toxic spill, what with the mix of horror and nervous observation. All except “Dee”, who was treating her like a moldy grade-school science project that she wasn't allowed to throw in the trash.

         Dee also happened to be the one showing her around the upstairs living quarters, and the one lending her clothes. She was a bit hard to figure out. Clary scuttled to keep up with her long strides as she led the way, the hems of her borrowed pants flopping gracelessly underfoot. There wasn't much in the way of conversation between them, so her mind wandered about the surroundings.

         They were in the upstairs portion of “The Institute”, which seemed to be more private living quarters, and it was a solemn contrast to the bustle of the lower levels. While the rest of the old cathedral had been outfitted with modern tech and equipment, this area looked like it had only begrudgingly accepted electricity. It was quiet up here, and its age showed in the darkness of the wood and cracks in the stone. Even the soft rasp of Dee’s light footsteps echoed in the stillness. She couldn't have been much older than Clary, but she had the demeanor of an overworked secretary, or maybe a sour librarian. Clary watched her back as she led the way, hair swaying in a strict ponytail, as black and streamlined as her outfit. She tried to picture herself looking that sharp, so far the borrowed clothes had only done the opposite, if anything.

         “Right this way is the bathroom, there should be fresh towels in the closet.” Dee informed her tersely as the hallway ended upon yet another door. She tried the handle and found it locked, the sound of running water and fragrant steam emanating from the gap beneath it. Clary envied whoever had beaten her to the shower.

         Dee seemed more confused than anything else, leaning her ear against the door with a frown. “Who the-” She knocked. “Magnus, are you in there?”

         The water stopped, and a guy's voice replied, matching Dee for irritability. “Yes. And I will continue to be in here until every last drop of hot water is gone, so don't hold your breath.” The statement was punctuated with the creak of a faucet, prompting Dee to thump on the door again. “Don't be an _ass_ Mag! The stray needs a bath too. Hurry up.”

         “Thanks…” Clary grumbled resentfully over the new nickname. Dee smiled with a deliberate blankness that didn't implicate whether or not she caught the sarcasm. “Don't mention it.”

         The water stopped again. “She's here? You should have said so. Let me finish with my hair and I'll be out in a minute.” The shower resumed and Clary feared for the remaining hot water.

         Dee rolled her eyes and spoke loudly over the noise. “I don't know why you bother, you're just going to put more crap in it anyway.”

         “Because you can't just _cake_ products on top of each other! That'd be _disgusting_.” The shower thief replied, leaving the water running this time. “Really, what kind of a girl are you? Everyone knows that.”

         Dee’s lip twitched in a suppressed smirk that suggested she’d already known the answer, and she turned back to Clary in a slightly brighter mood. “That's my brother Magnus. He's throwing a fit because of last night, but he'll get over it.”

         Clary nodded mutely, not sure what else to say about it. She was too exhausted to even think about meeting more people. She just wanted to see someone familiar, like Simon, or Luke- She swallowed a fresh bout of pain at the thought of Luke and what he'd said, and tried to think about something else.

         After what felt like a small eternity the bathroom door opened. The man behind it was towering, and about as thin as a warrior's build could be. He had that sunken-eyed, caffeine crash look of someone who'd just pulled an all-nighter.

          The family relation was obvious, they had matching black hair and dark skin, perhaps slightly darker in his case, and their eyes formed that same elegant swoop lined with straight dark lashes. Though his were a bit more elongated, and a shade of pale green which practically glowed.

         His hair was damp and pushed back away from his face, revealing Runes at his temple and behind his ears. Also he was wearing nothing but a towel around his waist and a pair of fluffy purple house slippers, which revealed the Runes everywhere else.

         She hadn't realized she was staring until he cleared his throat, expertly raising a single eyebrow. She began a stammering apology but he was already talking over her, addressing his sister. Apparently his social skills weren't any better than the rest of them. “So this is our mystery girl? By the Angel, you weren’t even exaggerating. She’s puny.”

         Clary glared from Magnus to Dee and back. “I'm standing right here you know, and my name is Clary.”

         “Nice to meet you Clary. My eyes are up here.”

         Clary flushed. Magnus smirked.

         “I wasn't-”

         “Sure you weren't.” His tone was that sassy kind of dismissive that said he was going to think whatever he wanted whether it was accurate or not, and he continued speaking to Dee while Clary blushed furiously. “Is she like this with Jace too, or am I the special one this time?”

         Dee’s demeanor darkened at the mention. “Jace has the common decency to keep his clothes on, you should try it sometime. And are those my slippers _again_?”

         Magnus looked down at himself, wiggled his feet in the slippers, and shrugged. “I wasn’t expecting company, and yes. It’s freezing in here.”

         “Then put a shirt on, or get your own! I told you you’re going to stretch mine out, give them back.” Dee tried to nudge the slippers off with her foot, he shuffled away defensively.  “No. It’s too cold. I’ll return them after I change.” Magnus argued. “Besides, I can never find men’s slippers this soft, and you know how Father gets about that kind of thing.”

         Something about that statement made Dee back off. She played it off as resignation, but the recoil wasn’t invisible. “Fine,” She sighed. “Just put them back when you’re done. And hurry up about it will you? I’m going to get Jace and let him know you’re back so we can fill you in properly. Did you get my texts? I tried to sum it up for you last night. We would have told you in person but neither of us heard you come in.”

         He sniffed indignantly. “That’s because you were all too busy bickering about Peppermint here. And it was more like this morning when I got back anyway.”

         Dee raised her eyebrows. “Really? Were you with…” She glanced furtively at Clary and back to her brother, not finishing the sentence.” Obviously there was something going on, but Clary was too exhausted to care about her own problems right now, let alone theirs.

         Magnus simply nodded. “You might as well get on with it. I have intel to share too.”

         Dee looked mildly surprised, but didn’t comment. She spared one last disdainful glance at Clary, stated “I trust you can figure it out from here.” and left back down the hall.

         Clary stared after her, still thrown off by the sudden bursts of animosity. “Did I do something wrong?”

         Magnus scratched his lip thoughtfully. “Your very existence is wrong, Cupcake. Not much you can do about it.”

         “I was meaning about Jace. But thanks for the self esteem boost.”

         “Anytime.” Appearing to find an overlooked bit of stubble, he retreated to the bathroom mirror brandishing a tweezers. Clary watched him curiously, fascinated as always by the way siblings affected each other. Most guys were so much more shy about their grooming habits around the opposite sex. Though to be fair, it didn’t really seem like he cared about the opposite sex much. She thought he was done with the conversation until he continued from there. “Why, what did Jace do?”

         “Nothing, he’s been nice, it’s ju-”

         “Bullshit. Jace is an asshole.” He corrected nonchalantly.

         Clary narrowed her eyes. “Really? I know reality is a little different for you guys, but so far he’s the only one who _hasn’t_ fit that description -much. It's your sister who seems like she hates me.” She finished hastily

         Magnus quit grooming himself and actually turned to face her, looking genuinely surprised. “You’re serious? Jace is never nice. No wonder Dei’s pissed, it must really be throwing off her routine.”

         Clary blinked. “Routine?”

         “Deifilia can be a bit high strung, doesn't like when things get changed around on her.” He gave his reflection a final look over before straightening up. “She'll adapt. I wouldn't worry.”

         “So it isn't actually a big deal?”

         “It isn't actually worth the stress.”

         The statement  wasn't exactly a comfort, but he didn't seem like he cared. Magnus grabbed a towel from the closet and added it to the pile of clothes in her arms. “I’m out of here, shower's all yours.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Clary alone at last.

         The hot water ran out about five minutes in, but she managed to get properly cleaned up at least. Silently cursing Magnus, Clary opened the door to find him standing in the hallway along with Jace and Dee. Or Deifilia, was it? Of all the names she’d considered Dee being short for, that wasn't one of them. It looked like they were arguing about something, Magnus slouched against one wall in a pout while Jace spoke insistently from the opposite side. “I don't like it either, but Clave orders come before your personal agenda.”

         Magnus bristled, almost literally. Now that he was dressed his appearance forewarned of his personality; Hair tossed skywards in a crown of gelled spikes, he was bundled in a long ultramarine cardigan worn open over a deep green shirt, with dark skinny jeans and piratey looking studded ankle boots. He jabbed something shimmery at Jace in an accusatory motion. “It's not a personal agenda. I just think that Valentine's sudden continued existence could be relevant to the investigation, for obvious reasons!”

           Jace scoffed.“Sure, and I guess that’s _not_ a familiar shade of blue you happen to be wearing.”

         “ _My my_ ,” Magnus mocked. “Aren’t we fashion conscious all of a sudden.”

         “Would you two cut it out!” Dee was standing between them, looking frazzled and exasperated. “It’s direct orders from the Clave, Mag, we’re taking her to the Silent Brothers. We can sort out the investigation after.”

         “Taking me to _who_?” Clary interjected before the boys could reply. Dee looked almost relieved, then irate when Jace immediately shifted gears.

         “Clary.” He greeted somewhat apologetically as he moved towards her. “I spoke with Markus, who has spoken to the Clave. They want you to meet with the Silent Brothers, they might be able to figure out what’s going on, your past- but they’ll have to dig through your memories to do it.”

         From there he launched into a hesitant explanation about this group, which sounded to her like their version of monks. Except these monks could read minds, apparently. And somehow their mind reading could potentially lead to insanity and/or death. It didn't sound very appealing, but neither did doing nothing while her mother was missing and probably in danger.

         Jace only got more distressed when she agreed, though Magnus and Dee shared an approving look.

         “Well look at that.” Magnus told him. “The little biscuit is braver than you.” He straightened up with a sigh, brandishing the shiny object once more. “I just still don't see why we can't update him while we're at it. At least a text or something-”

         “You got his cell number?” Dee asked like it was a scandalous notion.

         Magnus rolled his eyes. “Yeah for the investigation,  you know, to keep each other updated? With Father in Idris I’m going to be in charge of-”

         Jace cut him off with a leer. “You didn’t know Markus was leaving until we told you just now. So unless your warlock is clairvoyant…”

         Clary realized belatedly that the thing in Magnus’ hand was a cellphone in a purpleish snakeskin case. “You have phones?” She blurted.

         She was rewarded with three baffled stares. “Duh…?” Magnus ventured.

         “Then- Simon! I was supposed to meet him, he must be worried sick!”

         “Who the fuck is Simon?”

         “My friend- I have to call him- Did my phone make it?” She looked imploringly from Jace to Dee and back, assuming at least one of them would know where her stuff was. This place seemed so far from her own reality that she'd actually forgotten phones could be an option until just now.

         It turned out that they'd put her remaining stuff in a spare upstairs room. Her phone had made it, the battery was dislodged but still intact, and she turned it on to find a barrage of frantic texts and missed calls. All from Simon. Luke hadn't even bothered to try contacting her.

~.~

         The rest of the day was mercifully free of an agenda. She finally had time to think, and eat, and come up with some convincing lie to tell Simon about what had happened.

         The upper floors were the only place where she could escape all the stares and questions, but it left her in Hodge's territory. Aside from the odd piercing observation or slightly invasive inquiry, he wasn't so bad, and it definitely helped that his “territory” mainly involved a massive library.

         She was left alone up there for the most part. Magnus wandered in at some point, saw them, and suddenly remembered that he had business elsewhere. Jace came by a little later and sat with her until Deifilia showed up looking for Magnus, dragging Jace along when she left. After that it was quiet. Clary was about as content as she could be hanging around there for the next several hours, waiting anxiously for tomorrow and whatever it had  in store for her.

*     *     *

         The next morning Magnus watched from the window as they left, Clary was answering yet another call from that mystery friend of hers. He still didn't know anything about this Simon guy, but a part of him was hoping to see Jace have to deal with some romantic competition for the first time, if only for his own bitter amusement.

         Once they were out of sight he turned away, deciding to hunt down some breakfast and coffee. He’d stayed behind mostly because the Silent City was unpleasant even on a good day, and today was not a good day. Today was another tired cranky headache day.

         Besides, he had other plans. His father was away, which meant he had free reign of the Institute in the meantime, and he was going to take advantage of the breathing room.

         Magnus helped himself to some of the uninspired cafeteria-style food which they kept available for the visiting Shadowhunters. Possibly, he suspected, in the hopes of making them leave sooner. Today's menu included something that may have been porridge, but he wasn't about to bet on it. It came with a side of pallid, syrup-embalmed chunks of what was once fruit.

         Magnus shoved his ‘food’ around the plate a bit, mentally weighing whether this, or actually having to cook was worse. It made half the choices at the other night's diner sound appealing.

         That had been quite the place, Teto’s or something, some Downworlder eatery he'd never heard of. It was not at all what he'd been expecting when Alexander agreed to take him to dinner, but he was coming to understand that Alexander never did quite what he expected.

         Memories of that night were a welcome distraction from the disaster on his plate, so he let his mind wander to those instead.

}-•-{

_“What did you say this place was called again?” Magnus asked, dubiously examining the aged booth._

_“Taki’s” Alexander reiterated. He seemed to be getting a kick out of throwing off Magnus’ expectations, though he was trying to hide it with that flat and stoic act. Magnus had asked more than once where they were going during the cab ride, picturing some kind of fanciful Seelie restaurant or an enchanted Downworld bar. All he'd gotten for answers were things like “Neutral ground.” and “A place that serves Nephilim too.”. Apparently that meant some seedy diner in a dull part of town._

_And, judging by the hostile stares that hadn't stopped since they’d walked in, Magnus had to assume he was the first Shadowhunter to enter here in years._

_“It looks like a dive.” He observed, earning an offended growl from a nearby table. He didn't give them the satisfaction of turning to see who made it._

_Alexander was less passive. He fixed the table with a level stare, eyes glowing ever brighter until the growling stopped. “It is a dive.” He confirmed, more to the other table than to Magnus. “But,” he continued, shifting his attention back. “it has the best food around. And the owner, at least, doesn't like to hold a grudge.”_

}-•-{

         He'd been right about the food, once he pointed out the menu section that served human palates anyway. All neighboring booths had cleared almost the minute they sat down, but it was true that nobody hassled them, though many clearly wanted to. Magnus got the impression that it was Alexander's reputation which actually held them off.

         That reputation was what brought him to today's agenda. Magnus was not about to dive into things unprepared, and with the Institute's archives at his disposal, there was no reason he should have to.

         He took the crap food and weak coffee and made for the computer room. Dei and Jace clearing out for the day was definitely a plus, since research would be so much more pleasant without anyone leering over his shoulders the whole time.  

         Sadly, it appeared that peace and solitude weren't meant to be. He'd barely sat down, just long enough to pull up the file on Alexander L’Morne, when the very definition of leering incarnate seemed to rise up from the floorboards to heckle him.

         “You'd think Boswit’s own son would know better than to place fluids near the electronics.” Drawled a voice from behind him, petulant and barbed. Raj.

        Magnus tilted his head back to watch the man skulk over and lean against his table as a familiar contempt unfurled within. Raj wasn't a resident of the Institute, but he was part of the New York Conclave and as such was frequently using the facilities and being called on for larger missions. Being close in age, they'd had the misfortune of growing up together.

         “You're absolutely right.” He agreed with staged enthusiasm. “I should never have let a wet blanket like you enter the room.”

         Raj delivered a rude gesture in response. With formalities out of the way, he shifted to the actual subject of interest, on the computer screen.

         “You stalking men online now?” He taunted, squinting at the bio. “I'd say he's a bit too old for you, but then again I'm not a fucking queer so what do I know.”

         Magnus snorted. Even senseless jabs hit home once in awhile. “Sure you're not, Raj. And the ladies are just lining up to prove it.”

         “Fuck you. Anyway I'm sure the _High Warlock_ is out of your league.”

         “Go hard or go home right?”

         “Mmhm. And I'm guessing your dad doesn't know yet?”

         “Nor will he ever, unless you want the world to know about that time you pissed yourself on a mission because of a stray cat.” Magnus replied cheerily. He turned back to the screen, scrolling absently through the files as they verbally sparred.

         This was an old song and dance by now. Raj had found out about Magnus’ little… quirk a few years ago, purely by virtue of being a relentless snoop. He tried to threaten him over it every now and then, but Magnus had always been better at the blackmail game. Raj was perfectly aware of the other threats hanging over his head without Magnus needing to specify.

         Raj’s expression soured, but he tried to play it off with a derisive scoff. “That's assuming he somehow didn't notice you two eye fucking at the meeting like everyone else did. You know you're not subtle right?”

         “What can I say? This closet ain't big enough for the two of us.”

         Raj snorted. “You wish.”

         Magnus looked back up at him with a sweet smile. “My dear, _nobody's_ that desperate. Now what do you want, Raj?”

         Raj glared from the monitor to Magnus and back before his posture drooped in what looked like defeat, though from what challange he didn’t know. “Nothing.” He sighed, tapping at an image on the screen. “Have fun getting rejected. Looks like even Downworlders can do better than you.”

         Magnus did his best not to react, staring stubbornly at the screen as Raj walked away. The image was in the “Affiliates” section, it was a black and white photo of Alexander, still recognizable with his horns glamoured away. He was dancing with a woman in a white flapper dress, her dark hair clouding around a face obscured by camera flare. It was labeled “Lizzy” (Isabelle): May, 1926, and he was wearing a smile that could break hearts.

         Magnus was feeling its effects as he continued to a linked subfile. It contained a small handful of photos dating from the mid 20’s up to 1995. They were all of Alexander with a black haired woman, her face hidden by white flares where photographic silver refused to hold the image of a vampire.

         There were candid shots of the pair seated at restaurants, heading into a cinema, in the foyer of a hotel, at a few different eras of dance clubs. Even one at an Elvis concert. What struck Magnus most was Alexander's expressions. With the woman he was smiling, laughing, relaxed in a way Magnus hadn't realized was possible for him. All except for the last image in the file, the one dated to 1995. It was a grainy digital picture of them in a retro diner, for the first time capturing the woman's face, while Alexander glared directly into the camera.

         There were no pictures of her after that, and few reported sightings. Reading over her file, it appeared that she’d made frequent disappearances throughout the years. There were written reports of her from as far back as the late 1600’s. She would resurface in different cities or countries, always in association with L’Morne, most often with some form of Isabelle or Elisabeth as an alias.

         Her age and origin were listed as Unknown, with her first documented appearance being in Spain some years after the discovery of L’Morne, almost two centuries before his cooperation with the Clave. She was never confirmed in any violations of the Accords, although her evasive patterns had garnered suspicion enough to investigate. It was noted that L’Morne refused to give them any information regarding her, their relationship listed as Unconfirmed.

         Magnus wasn't entirely sure what this meant regarding Alexander, not just his availability, but his origins as well. He hadn't realized just how little was known about the warlock. Even the casually admitted fact that he was from South America wasn't officially documented, leading Magnus to wonder if there was a reason he'd only told them, or if it had been an offhand lie. It was a frustrating question because Alexander really didn't strike him as a casual liar, which only emphasized just how little Magnus knew about him. A small, subdued voice in the back of his mind whispered of Camille. That he'd trusted her too, that maybe he just had no judge of character in the first place, that no decent person would have given him the time of day. He tried to distract himself from it.

         Returning to Alexander’s main file, Magnus began with his initial discovery in Spain circa 1683. He'd sabotaged a Shadowhunter raid, one of those profit hunts from a less proud point in the Clave's history. Since L’Morne wasn't a target of the raid his intervention was reported to be unprovoked, but it was successful and supposedly single handed, displaying an uncommon level of power. A little footnote stated that the act was pardoned after the Accords, but before then it had incited a manhunt of sorts. The search extended throughout Spain and Portugal, lasting for two years until he was caught trying to board a ship to the New World, in the company of a female vampire later assumed to be Isabelle.

         After an improbable escape he’d disappeared again, resurfacing four years later in Morocco. From then encounters were reported across North Africa and the Middle East, several involving Isabelle as well. They were confirmed to have found refuge among India's then impenetrable Downworld communities before the Clave lost their trail.

         Alexander was rediscovered in France during the 1770’s, amidst the turmoil following the Seven Years War. That was when he'd taken the name L’Morne and started making a reputation for himself, both in the Downworld and certain Mundane circles. From then until the first signing of the Accords he'd established himself as a major power in the Downworld and a persistent opposition to the Clave. His crimes were mostly nonviolent, harboring Downworld fugitives, sabotaging hunts and so forth, and were eventually pardoned in return for his cooperation with the Clave. He came to America in the early 1900’s, firmly situating himself in New York City towards the end of the 40’s.

         It was the bare bones of a life story. Not that Magnus should have expected otherwise, but it was still disappointing. The rest was just short summaries of notable actions and potential concerns, the latter of which were minimal aside from his understandably rebellious past. It meant L’Morne was either incredibly sly or abnormally well behaved.

         Looking back over the Affiliates section didn't tell him much either. There was a list of Downworlders he'd been known to work with, including the current leader of the New York vampire clan, but nothing else like Isabelle.

         Magnus dropped his face into his hands. He’d always fancied himself a scholar, and there was so much here for him to work with. All these little information trails, questions fizzling in the corners of his mind, but his hands weren’t moving to find answers. He couldn’t focus on any of it enough to care, because one train of thought was plowing them all flat. _-Is Isabelle the “Iz” who makes him dinner? Who is she to Alexander? What is he hiding?-_

         Somehow Magnus was once again left sulking and insecure over this guy. Magnus, who hadn't allowed himself to get hung up on anyone since… Well, since maybe the fourth round with Camille. But that was a short round, and she’d already known how to get under his skin. The point was that he'd already tried the dating and the betrayal and the getting dumped, and he was over it, had been over it for _years_. This was supposed to be just an experiment, a little liberating experience so he could move on with his life.

         But then he’d made Magnus smile. And then he'd been interesting and charming and paid attention to him. It might be pathetic, but Alexander was sweet to him in ways nobody had bothered to be before, and it was getting to him. And every change in lighting just made the guy more handsome…

         If Magnus were still smart he would run. He'd listen to Jace, listen to his own rules he'd made years ago about not getting in deep. He'd listen to his father and never trust a Downworlder, because that charming gorgeous man who looked at him like there was nobody else in the room probably had a girlfriend who left dinner in the fridge every night.

         But somewhere along the line Magnus had stopped being smart, and “Relationship Unconfirmed” might be a brittle foundation for hope, but he had to know for sure. After all, the dinners were left uneaten, there were no photos on the walls, and if there was a picture definition of bachelor it would be Alexander L’Morne. He just couldn't pass up on eyes that blue over a mere suspicion.

         Their night was floating through his memory like the tune to a new favorite song. Still savoring the emotion, still working out the lines, wondering if he'd get to hear it again someday.

}-•-{

_They had walked most of the way back to the Institute, stopping just out of view of the cathedral windows. Regardless of  their outing, it seemed like a good idea not to be seen waltzing up to the Institute together._

_They didn't part ways immediately, mutually trying to stretch out the remaining minutes in each other's company. It had been a nice night, not quite what Magnus had in mind, but cozy. The kind of comfortable that something inside of him usually screamed to avoid at all costs. Yet here he was, standing around looking for a reason to stay, a part of him worrying that he might not get another chance._

_Alexander opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, thought for a moment, and started again. Finally voicing a question. “I recall you saying something about being in command of your team?”_

_Magnus shrugged, it wasn’t what he’d been hoping to hear, but might as well see where it was going. “I guess so, I have seniority at least. Why?”_

_That seemed to be the answer he was looking for, because Alexander brightened. “Then that makes you the one to contact with any updates, no? Is there a more direct way to get in touch with you than the Institute phone?”_

_If that wasn’t a thinly veiled request for his number then he didn’t know what it was.  Magnus grinned. “Absolutely. Though I may need to contact you as well, perhaps we should exchange phone numbers? Purely for professional reasons, of course...”_

_It made Alexander laugh, and it was a sweet laugh. One he intended to hear more often. It also got him Alexander’s number, which he planned to make good use of._

_With no other excuse to linger, he turned to leave. A thought caught him before rounding the corner and he turned back to find the warlock still standing there, hands clasped behind his back, dutifully seeing him off. “You don’t strike me as the attention seeking sort, Alexander.”_

_“What brings this up?”_

_“Your little speech, on the balcony. You were talking like it was important to be noticed, remembered,_ something _, yet all night you’ve hardly spoken two words about yourself. You're the High Warlock of Brooklyn, and you don't even show it off.”_

_Alexander didn't contest it, he didn't interrupt at all, just waited in silence with a cryptic curl to his lip and a gaze that shone blue even in the shadow of night. Magnus met his eyes firmly. “What really stopped you back then?”_

_Alexander took time to consider before answering, and when he finally spoke the words were carefully weighed. “There were people who… benefitted from -relied on- my continued existence. I stuck it out for them. Eventually I realized that I had started doing so for myself along the way.”_

_“And that was the end of it? Did the- the thoughts, did they stop after that?”_

_“No.” He said sympathetically. “But they lessened, and they got easier.”_

_“What do you do when they come back?”_

_“I buy more mugs.” The delivery was too flat for him to be sure if it was a joke, but Alexander's smile grew slightly, and he inclined his head in farewell. “Goodnight, Magnus. I look forward to seeing you again.”_

}-•-{

         Magnus checked his phone, considering again if he should tell the warlock about Valentine. Alexander's contact page was still up from the last time he’d thought it over, looking at it now he wondered if he should change the name. ‘Alexander’ was a little too informal for what their situation was supposed to be. He knew Jace would have a field day if he saw it, and Magnus really had no defense this time either. He just liked the look and sound of it.

         When they’d first exchanged numbers, the idea of  just calling whenever sounded fine. While they were alone together in the dark, sharing coy smiles, it made perfect sense to talk casually. Now he was unsure. It was sinking in just how badly he wanted to make something of this, in contrast to how little he actually knew about Alexander or his motives.

         What if he was just a distraction between rounds of a recurring relationship? Magnus had certainly done that to enough girls during the lowest points of his Camille obsession that he probably had it coming. Though he'd never been so -acted so- sincere about it. He always made sure they knew it was casual.

         Worse yet, what if it was a jealousy game? The Angel knew how many of those Camille had played on him, and the people she’d hurt in the process. Had any of her pawns felt like this? Had she swindled them with warm smiles and kind words and all the feigned interest in their lives and personalities that she couldn't be bothered to spare on him anymore?

         Was he really willing to put himself out there at risk of being on the other end of karma now?

         Before he could decide the phone rang, and before he could think he was answering it, Alexander's name rolling lyrically off his tongue in greeting. There was a pause from the other end of the line, just long enough for Mag's stomach to sink. Just enough for his thoughts to churn: _-Was that too flirty? Did I just make it weird? Have I been misreading things this whole time?”_

But when Alexander spoke it wasn't with disgust, just a slight hesitation, the faintest hint of a stutter. Almost… flustered?

         [“Magnus?”]

         “Yes?” He squeaked around the heart in his throat.

         [“Great, um, good morning. Or afternoon. I-uh-”]

         Magnus bit his lip, trying not to smile as Alexander continued. The awkwardness was somehow endearing on him. [“The DNA’s been identified. I think it would be a good idea to discuss it in person, um- do you have time today?”]

         Mag’s eyes drifted from his file on the screen to the scarcely touched food, to the deserted room, to the hallway where an occasional person would shuffle by with eyes averted. Taking in the peculiar isolation of a building full of people you didn't want to see. It wasn't a social call, he should probably wait for his team before heading out. But they wouldn't be back for hours, and maybe he still didn't know his standing with Alexander, but no level of insecurity could be worse than the familiar feeling of being unhappy and unliked in this place.

         “I have all the time in the world.”

~ . ~

         The trip to Alexander's apartment was much like the last one, only quieter. Without the distraction of his siblings Magnus was left to stare out the window in peace, fretting internally over every little detail.

         He'd changed before leaving, twice, drastically overthinking each choice. Now he was in a crimson button up, absently fussing with the Mandarin collar, Alexander's talisman hanging heavily over his chest. Paired with black jeans and a military style jacket, he had intended for the colors to boost his confidence. It wasn't working. He’d been aiming for aggressive but felt more like a poisonous insect trying not to get eaten.

         Magnus arrived before he had time to compose himself. Not that any amount of time would have necessarily been long enough, but it was distressing all the same. He stared up at the top two stories for a moment, readily visible now that he knew what to look for, and took one last steadying breath before heading in.

         When he finally reached the apartment Alexander opened the door slowly, greeting Magnus with an oddly nervous smile before peering down the hall. “No team today?”

         “Nope, they're busy with-” He stopped himself before mentioning  Clary, since they were still supposed to be keeping quiet about it. “…Mission follow-up. May I come in?”

         Alexander's brow knit at the change in tone, but he was too distracted to question it. He opened the door wider to let Magnus in, his entire demeanor stressed. It was dimmer than before. Heavy curtains were pulled across the glass door to the balcony, and artificial light poured in from both sides of the foyer.

         Magnus opened his mouth to ask, but was derailed by a woman's voice. “They're here already? That was quick wasn't it.”

         It was an attractive voice, rich and smooth and exotically accented. Even more attractive was the woman who possessed it. She sauntered in from the kitchen doorway, steps silent and effortlessly graceful despite the length of her heels. A waterfall of black hair was pinned up on one side, allowing the rest to spill over her shoulder, contrasting sharply against a curve-hugging white dress. Her lips and nails were painted a matching crimson, almost the same shade as the fluid she was sipping through a straw from one of the dark bottles he'd seen in the fridge. Alexander tensed even more when she appeared, and all of Magnus’ jealous anxiety from earlier came rushing back like a dam had broken.

         It was Isabelle, he realized. The vampire from the files. She looked latina in person, her naturally dark skin and the flush of a recent feeding had initially masked the pallor of the undead. Which meant it was blood that she was drinking, blood that had been set aside in expectation of her visits, that she was at home enough here to help herself to…

         Part of Magnus wanted to turn around and leave. To flee the humiliation of ever thinking he stood a chance, but pride kept him in place. Pride and spite.

         Isabelle beamed when she saw him, setting down her drink and approaching to shake his hand. All easy warmth and instant affection. “You must be Magnus! I'm Isabelle, Alec’s been telling me so much about you.”

          _-Alec? He has a nickname?-_ Magnus was  too stunned by the friendly onslaught to think about what and why Alec might be telling her about him, and found his hand being  shaken before he could pull away. “Funny,” He heard himself saying, hurt turning to sass on his tongue. “he’s never mentioned you.”

         To his complete surprise, verging on alarm, Isabelle laughed. Not a cruel or condescending sound, as he would have expected from the situation, but a genuinely delighted laugh. Magnus started to wonder just what kind of a mistake he’d made when she composed herself, turned to Alexander, and cracked up again at his expression. This time holding a hand to her mouth and stomach in an attempt not to double over. Finally she straightened up, eyes shining and red at the lash line, and gasped for enough air to speak. “No, no he wouldn't have. My _brother_ tends to be a little overprotective of my identity.”

         Magnus blinked, too surprised for eloquence. “Brother? How…?” Warlocks didn't tend to _have_ siblings, warlocks also couldn't be turned into vampires… Now that he was looking for it the family resemblance was obvious, but the genetic implications were boggling.

         She laughed again, most likely at the look on his face. “Okay, half brother. But what's the difference really?” She waved off the subject. “Anyway it's nice to meet you, especially if you're that serious about-”

         “ _Iz_. Don't.” Alexander cut in. “You're getting way ahead of yourself.”

          _-So this is the mysterious Iz-_ Mag’s pulse fluttered happily at the confirmation. There was no competition after all, just a fretting sister, _and_ she approved of him. He kicked himself a little for caring so much, but it didn't manage to douse his mood.

         Isabelle scoffed, but playfully, smirking at her brother with bright eyes. “Fiiine, but this is why you need to start introducing me more.”

         “You didn't give me the _chance_.” He argued with exasperation before turning to Magnus. “I'm sorry for the, ah… confusion. This is my sister Isabelle. Isabelle, Magnus Boswit. He's heading the investigation.”

         Isabelle took his hand again. “Pleasure to meet you Magnus. I heard that you helped cure my ex, but don't worry, I won't hold it against you.”

         Magnus smiled back this time, finally understanding the undertones he'd noticed with Meliorn. Then the rest of Alexander's sentence registered. “Wait you know about the investigation? Alexander, that's supposed to be confidential-”

         “It still is.” Alexander hastily assured him. “Isabelle is also my forensic consultant. I actually called you here to speak with her, she's the one who identified the DNA sample.” He deferred to his sister for the rest. She accepted with a smile, picking up her drink and motioning towards the kitchen. “Shall we sit? Oh and you can just call him Alec, by the way. All his friends do.”

         “Only because you tell them to.” Alexander -Alec- chided her as he followed them in. He was still a little tense, but there was evidence of that relaxed happiness from the pictures, his sister clearly brought out a different side of him. It was only further dooming Magnus’ feelings for the warlock.

         Isabelle laughed again. It was a musical sound, a tempo to her dancing step. Magnus found that he was glad they could be on good terms. “How about some of that coffee of yours?”

         Alec sighed just for show, rolling his eyes as he moved to the stove. “Yes your highness, shall I put on a hot bath as well?”

         She snorted, swatting his arm affectionately on the way to the dining room. Magnus puzzled over the request, and not just because Alec's coffee was terrible. “You drink coffee?” He couldn't help asking. “I thought vampires couldn't stomach real food and drink.”

         Isabelle hummed in affirmation. “But live long enough and anything becomes possible.”

         Magnus wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. Another question nagged at him and he started to ask “How did-” before thinking better of it and shutting his mouth. Isabelle gave him a mingled look.

         “How did a warlock’s sister end up a vampire?” She finished for him. Magnus nodded, slightly embarrassed.

         For the first time her smile looked less than genuine. “It's a long story, maybe some other time. What's important right now is that DNA.” She perked up, switching gears, and waved Magnus to a seat.

         “Now this is interesting, absolutely not what I expected.” Her eyes lit up as she spoke, filling with the passion of scientific pursuit. “The saliva belonged to a warthog.”

         Magnus did a cognitive double-take. “Are you serious?” Though, to be fair, it wasn't much weirder than the caterpillar thing.

         “Mm-hm!” She nodded emphatically. “I hadn't even thought to check for a foreign animal like that, that's why it took _forever_ to figure out. Of course,” She added slightly louder, casting a pointed look in Alec's direction. “If _someone_ had bothered to take pictures of the wounds for me it could have sped things up. Tusk punctures are pretty distinctive from bite marks, Alec.”

         “I told you already,” He retorted defensively from the kitchen. “the wounds were thoroughly corroded by the time I got to see them. If there was any information to glean from them I would've found it myself. I'm not completely useless without you.”

         “Relax, I'm just teasing.” Isabelle soothed. “Anyway I figured it out eventually.”

         “But what exactly does that mean?” Magnus asked. “Because it's starting to sound like we're dealing with a venomous demon pig.”

         Isabelle bit her lip. “That's the part we're still trying to work out.” She admitted.

         “It sounds like an artificial chimaera.” Alec pitched in gravely. “Our mad scientist may be combining animals using demonic essence to create a weaponized composite creature.”

         Magnus took a moment to absorb what he was hearing. It was a pretty horrifying concept. As a Shadowhunter he'd had to get used to every form of human suffering, he hadn't built up the same tolerance for animals. Across the table Isabelle pulled a face. The siblings appeared to be stomaching it better than him, but she seemed eager for a distraction by the time the deceptively appetizing scent of coffee filled the air.

         “Not too hot please.” She called over her shoulder. “Or it'll cook.”

         “Of course.” Alec replied with a note of exasperation. “Good thing you reminded me, or I might have spontaneously forgotten after all these years.”

         Magnus was content to let his mind puzzle over what the hell they could be talking about instead of picturing chimaeras. They continued to bicker mildly.

         “You've forgotten before.”

         “I hadn't slept.”

         “You _never_ sleep.”

         “It was less than normal that time.” He stated as an end to the debate. “One tepid coffee, coming right up. Would you like anything, Magnus?”

         “No, I'm-” _-sane-_ “I'm good, thanks.”

         Fortunately Alec wasn't paying attention to his expression. It looked like he was focused on doing that heat transfer trick again.

         “Suit yourself. Let me know if you change your mind.” He sent a mug floating over the counter toward Isabelle while he took the long way around to sit with them. She plucked it out of the air, breathed in the fragrance, and dumped the remaining contents of her bottled blood into it.

         Magnus felt his eyebrows rise unintentionally. She gave an apologetic smile in response. “Sorry if this is gross, I haven't been around Nephilim in a while.”

         “Don't be.” Magnus reassured her. “I mean I can't speak for the rest of us, but I'm just curious as to why.”

         “Oh,” She perked up again at the question. “it warms up the blood, and gives it a bit of a kick. At least Alec's does -he makes the best coffee.”

         Magnus nodded slowly. Watching her happily sip away at the caffeinated sludge, he started to understand why Alec thought it could be edible. Isabelle was the kind of person whose approval made anything seem acceptable. He still couldn't bring himself to agree though.

         Alec cleared his throat. “About the chimaera. Chances are, what your people are dealing with actually does look very much like a venomous demon-pig. We know it attacks with its mouth and injects venom through the wounds, so it'll at least have the face of a warthog, most likely with venom glands in the mouth or around the tusks.”

         “Sounds pretty hard to miss.” Magnus mused. “I’m surprised we haven't seen any more of them around.”

“I don't expect there to be more than one, actually. Look.” Alec swept his hand over the table, producing a page of the New York Times. On it was a report from last month of a missing warthog from the Staten Island Zoo. He indicated one paragraph with a fingertip.

         “This says it disappeared over night, no trace of intruders or vehicles, it was just gone in the morning. Clearly not the work of Mundanes.” Before Magnus got the chance to read much he was reaching into thin air to retrieve another page.

         “What I’m worried about is this.” He said, tapping a picture of a juvenile hyena. This one went missing two days ago from The Bronx, same method.” He held Magnus’ gaze for an extended moment, eyes expressing a concern that his words couldn’t convey. “The last experiment was a success, Magnus. Whoever did this is planning to do it again, and I don’t know if the same cure will work next time. If they know I’m working with you, they may take it into account with the next venom.”

         “So what do we do about it?” Magnus asked. “Right now the Institute's plan is to proceed as usual and hope nobody dies this time. My father isn't even bothering to consider your theory, and now he's heading to Idris to- well, other concerns arose. But please tell me there's _something_ we can work with here.”

         Both siblings raised their eyebrows. “Behind your father's back?” Asked Isabelle.

         Magnus shrugged. “He didn’t specifically order us _not_ to investigate. In fact, I wasn’t there at the time and didn’t receive any orders at all, so technically I have the week off.” It was one of his many technical ‘weeks off’, finding loopholes to defy and evade his father was a personal hobby of Mag’s. He’d been accused time and again of getting lenient treatment for being Boswit's son, but the reality was far from it. Markus would find excuses to lash out at him either way, and with roughly equal consequence for good or bad behavior, he'd stopped bothering to behave at all.

         Isabelle hummed approvingly. “I'm seeing why you like him so much _hermano mio_.”

         “Izzy _please_.” Alec complained, hunching into himself with ears turning pink. Isabelle winked at Magnus over his bowed head. “Anyway,” He continued almost smoothly, rising back up to speak. “I’ll admit, I'm glad you want to join us. I was planning to check out the zoos, try to pick up any residual traces of the magic they used there. If it's a warlock that should be enough for me to identify them.”

         Magnus almost laughed. “Glad I asked then. What else should I know, and why a warlock? I thought we ruled them out last night.”

         Alexander's mouth tightened unhappily. “I hadn't considered that they could be operating over running water, in which case they might be able to hide from me. With magic like this it's unlikely to be a lycanthrope, or even a vampire-”

         “And Raphael and I have been investigating the vampires.” Isabelle interjected darkly. “We even uncovered a rogue nest hiding out in Queens. They’re taken care of, but nobody’s heard of anything else besides the spike in missing persons. If it’s one of mine, they’re new here and haven’t spoken to any of the locals.”

         “Right.” Alec agreed. “And The Queen has assured us that Meliorn’s attacker  wasn’t Seelie. She’s searching for them too, but there’s been no news from her end.”

         “Granted, she said she’d inform you when the one responsible is _dead_ , not when she finds them.” Isabelle reminded him. “Which means if she captures them alive she’s under no obligation to share that with us.”

         “True, but it’s the best we can get from her right now.” Alec replaced the news clippings with a city map, where red and black marks denoted the locations of attacks and disappearances. All waterways were highlighted in blue. “We can trust the wolves at least, and Maia’s pack is scouring the docs as we speak.” He continued, indicating an area where the blue was actively being replaced with green. “Her Alpha is keeping me updated on any unusual findings.”

         Magnus took it in with fascination. He'd been raised to believe that Downworlder ‘society’ was all savage, ungoverned chaos, only held together by the imposed order of Shadowhunters. What he was seeing in action were organized factions, not unlike an old-fashioned Mafia. It still sounded pretty violent, but far from chaotic. And what right did the Clave have to complain about violence?

         His thoughts were cut short when Alec spoke again. “This leaves every race accounted for except mine. Right now us warlocks have the highest number of missing persons but no reported attacks.”

         “What about my race?” Magnus blurted. He'd been trying to keep quiet about Valentine until he heard back from Jace and Dei, but the secret was burning a pit in his stomach. “It's possible that V- shit-”

         He was interrupted by the blaring first notes of ‘Milkshake’, a comedic whim which he now instantly and desperately regretted setting as a ringtone, and scrambled to answer his phone before the lyrics could start. Jace was already talking by the time Magnus brought it to his ear, he sounded a weird kind of aggravated.

         [“-meet us at your warlock's place. We have some questions for him.”]

         “What the hell Jace, aren't you supposed to be with the Silent Brothers? What's going on?”

         [“We just left the Silent City, it's about that. A _warlock_ suppressed her memories. And a powerful one, too.”]

         “Seriously? Who?”

         [“What? Come on Mags it's not like he left his name and address, this is a girl's brain not a bathroom mirror.”]

         “Hey you never know-”

         [“Anyway that's what we need L’Morne for. I'm hoping he has information, and we're almost there now so hurry up.”]

         Isabelle snorted, nudging Alexander. “I'm guessing that's the charming brother you mentioned?”

         Alec nodded distractedly. Brow furrowed, he addressed Magnus. “A memory suppression? On who?”

         “Hang on.” Magnus glared at the two of them. He'd moved away from the table for a reason, they could at least _pretend_ not to hear every word. He walked further into the kitchen and returned to Jace. “I’m already here. Why are you so worked up about this?”

         [“Why- Nevermind. Just tell him to open the door, we're here now.”]

         Right on cue the buzzer sounded. Alec was already halfway to the door, because apparently some people just couldn't respect the privacy of a phone call. But his expression was something more than just nosey. He looked as aggravated as Jace sounded, and Isabelle was watching him with concern written all over her face. He opened the door before they could knock, and froze.

         Alec blanched, then turned faintly green. Across the threshold was Clary, looking up at him with an inquisitive glare.

         “Do I know you?”

         “Unfortunately.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry I promise the hyena's gonna make it. He's probably gonna be someone's new pet.  
> Yeah so I'm going completely off canon with the way vampire reflections and everything work in this. I came across this bit of trivia about how the reason they don't have a reflection in classic myth is because mirrors were traditionally backed with silver, which is a pure metal and won't reflect evil, and I thought it was really neat so I wanted to reference that. Film photography relies on silver to capture the light, so by the same reasoning it won't capture a vampire's face, which is why Izzy only showed up in a digital image. Of course, since Alec has spent centuries trying to protect her identity from the Clave, once the new cameras came out they had to put a lot more effort into avoiding them. It happened around the same time as Boswit taking over the institute and eventually imploding, so he's been more reclusive and stressed out than usual for the last couple decades trying to keep everyone safe. 
> 
> Sorry to leave you on a cliff hanger, but this is probably gonna be my last update until after christmas. I work retail so my life is basically signed away for the rest of the month, all my free time is going to be spent coming home, passing out, and sobbing in my sleep to the tune of "Santa Baby".  
> If you want to support my whining habit, swing by [my tumblr](https://basuralindo.tumblr.com/) and whisper sweet nothings into my askbox. Or just message me and have a chat, everyone's welcome, I'm a pretty amicable guy.
> 
> As always, please comment! I love every word you have to say, even if they don't quite string together right. Except for the word juicy. Let's leave that one out.


	5. So Close to Something Better Left Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title lyrics from [Gimme Sympathy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8NMiWQ2h4e4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I worked myself to death over the christmas season and got an ass-kick flu, so I edited this during my sick days in the little window between fever subsiding and antibiotics mushing my brain. Please understand if it's shittier than the others~

         Alec stepped back to allow the Nephilim in. Jace was already demanding answers somewhere at the edge of his attention, but his focus was on Clary.

         She hadn't moved or spoken. Her stare was full of questions and accusation and that look of betrayal which he'd had to see far too much of over the years. 

         “You son of a bitch.” She whispered at last. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

         “I'm sorry.” Was all he could think to say. Not only because of what he'd had to take from her, but because if she was here, with them, it must mean that something had happened to Jocelyn.

         “ _ Sorry _ ? What does that mean- what is going on?” Jace's words finally cut through. He was in Alec's face again, trying to wedge himself between the two of them, eyes flashing with a fierce protectiveness that seemed disproportionate for such a new acquaintance. Alec stepped back again, palms held outward placatingly, though he didn't take his eyes off of Clary's.

         “It was your mother’s request. She thought it would protect you.”

         Jace opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by Clary this time. Placing a hand on his arm, she stepped forward to speak for herself. “Protect me from what?”

         Alec gestured to the room in general. “From this. From the Unseen World, from her people, your blood and the fate it carries. She hoped that if you couldn’t see -couldn’t remember- that maybe you could live a normal human life.” He couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at her company. “Obviously we were unsuccessful.”

         “So you knew.” Jace cut in bluntly. It wasn't a question. “You knew she was here, and about the Circle, and her father.”

         “Her father?” Magnus asked. He was standing to the side with his sister and some dark haired boy Alec didn't recognize.

         “Valentine.” They replied in unison. Deifilia flipped a hand in Clary's direction and explained with a tired air. “One of the few things the Silent Brothers managed to uncover was that Clary is none other than Valentine's own daughter. Secretly hidden away right here in New York for some reason.”

         “She was in hiding.” Alec retorted. “With Valentine and the Clave in Europe, America was a safer choice, and it's easier to lose an individual or two in the crowds of this city.”

         “Why do  _ you _ know all that? How well did you know my mom?” Clary demanded at the same time as Magnus started asking why he hadn't told them Valentine was alive and Jace questioned how much he actually knew about the situation. Alec raised his hands in a quieting motion. When that didn't work stress converted into magic, unintentionally emitting a wave of silence that buffeted the crowd and dissipated into the walls. It had probably woven itself into the soundproofing wards, which could mean hours of straightening them out later, but at least everyone had stopped talking over each other for now.

         “One at a time, please.” He mumbled lamely to the row of quiet stares. They were no longer muted by magic, but still silenced by alarm. “…Sorry. To answer your questions, I do know Jocelyn, but not well. She sought me out when you were very young, requesting that I remove your Sight and memories and pleading with me not to reveal her to the Clave. She was convinced that Valentine had survived, but there was no proof and therefore nothing to report aside from a terrified mother in hiding.” At their expectant looks he continued with a shrug. “As much as I didn't want to get involved I couldn't bring myself to turn her in. Instead I got suckered into helping.”

         Clay's expression went from horrified to furious. “You mean by stealing my memories? Sounds terrible for you, maybe if you give them back you'll feel better.” She snapped sarcastically. 

         “I didn't  _ take  _ them,” Alec snapped back. “and I can't give them back.” He tried to explain less harshly against her seething glare. “I suppressed your memories, and they'll resurface on their own in time.”

         Clary looked more murderous than assured. “How much time?”

         “I… I don't know.” He admitted. “I’ve never tried the spell on anyone before or after you. But it's been wearing off quicker each time, down to a little over a year between-”

         “You mean you've done this to me more than once?!” Clary shouted, unconsciously standing on her toes to meet his eyes.

         “ _ It had to be maintained _ .” Alec was all but pleading for understanding. He'd hated doing what Jocelyn had asked, every few years when she'd come knocking on his door with her daughter in tow. He'd come to dread the sight of Clary. Watching the cycle of terror, recognition, betrayal, and finally confusion once everything else had been resubmerged. The wrongness of invading an unwilling mind. It was like a recurring nightmare, he didn't even want to think about the experience from her end. When she'd gotten older and started catching on to what was happening she would beg him not to. When she was older still she'd started fighting, kicking and clawing and screaming at him to stay away from her. 

         Alec had been praying for the day she would be allowed to remember and he'd never have to see them again, but it wasn't supposed to go like this. “The mind isn't stagnant, it grows and changes and adapts and the older you got the more yours fought against the spell. The fact that you recognized me today means it's already fading.”

         “And what about Valentine?” Deifilia prompted before Clary could speak again. “What do you know about him, and why didn't you tell us before?”

         “There was nothing to tell.”

         Alec's already raw nerves frayed further as Isabelle's voice, followed by her person, drifted in from the kitchen. Past the attention diverting wards he'd been so careful to place there before opening the door. The new boy's eyes bugged a little while everyone else startled. Alec assumed by the contrast that he must not be a Hunter.

         “Jocelyn's suspicion was all that we had to go on until now, and she thought he was still in Europe.” She continued. “Do you really think a Downworlder would have any luck convincing the Clave of news they don't want to hear, with no evidence to support it?”

         Jace looked her over before speaking, eyes darting to the blackout curtains and back, sharply observant under the apathetic airs. “And you are?”

         The snide disdain in his tone made Alec's teeth grit. Isabelle shot him an expectant look that said  _ “Well? Here's your chance to introduce me.” _

__ Alec tried to suppress a frown and motioned to his sister. “This is Isabelle, she's the forensics specialist who's been helping me with your case.”

         Jace didn't relax in his posture, just raised an eyebrow. “Forensics… Interesting profession for a vampire, I don't suppose there are werewolves in Fish and Wildlife?”

         At the word “vampire” Clary gasped, staring at Isabelle with mild horror. The brunette boy looked awestruck, though that may have been his expression before, Alec hadn't been paying attention. Isabelle looked amused, replying with “Law enforcement, actually, but close.” Turning to Clary she added: “As for your memories, I hope you can understand it wasn't what anyone wanted. His apologies may not sound like much, but they are genuine.”

Clary’s eyes narrowed. “You say that like you were involved.”

         “Not personally.” Isabelle shrugged. “I've known Alexander for a long time, we keep in touch.”

         Clary still looked suspicious, but she let it be for now. Deifilia shot Magnus a coded look. When he shook his head, she turned to Isabelle with a smile. “Well it's nice to meet you, Isabelle…”

         “Laurent.” Izzy finished for her. Alec made sure to remember it this time, he wasn’t expecting to have to introduce her today and had failed to check which pseudonym she was using lately.

         “I'm Deifilia Boswit.” She said with a hand extended. “Thank you for helping with the case, we don't often get to work with vampires.” It was clear she was being diplomatic. Everyone knew the Shadowhunters barely tolerated vampires, and “get to” was a bit overly embellished, but the effort counted for something. Izzy returned a civil smile and shook her hand. “It's a pleasure, I don't  often get to work with Mundanes.” She finished with a wink at the gawking boy, who flushed crimson. Alec raised an eyebrow. At least that finally explained it, he'd been puzzling over the  boy's species until now, and human hadn't crossed his mind. It did make it stranger that he was here, though.

         “Friend of yours?” He asked Clary.

         “I'm Simon.” Replied -presumably- Simon, with an irritated edge to his tone. Clary nodded and moved protectively to his side. Jace's eyes ignited with jealousy as she did, and Deifilia’s rolled in response. 

         “He tracked Clary’s phone and caught up with us on the way to the City of Bones.” She explained, with a note of accusation directed at Simon. “We didn’t have much choice but to bring him along.”

         “Hey, I thought she’d been kidnapped.” He snapped. “And turns out I wasn’t that far off either. What would you have done?”

         “Something actually helpful, most likely.” Jace retorted without invitation. Simon glared at him.

         “It’s nice to meet you, Simon.” Izzy interrupted with that low, flirty voice she liked to use on men. Clary openly glared at her as Simon gulped, which didn't help Jace's state any. Alec chimned in before things got any uglier. “Welcome to the shadow world, Simon, I hope you like fairytales and nightmares.”

        It wasn't meant to be a dialogue, but Simon replied anyway. “Not particularly, no.”

         “Well, this isn't going to be much fun for you at all then.” Alec observed dryly. Motioning to the living room, he addressed the rest of the crowd. “Anyway. We just finished going over our information with Magnus, but now that you’re all here why don't we do it over again. Maybe this time with full disclosure on Valentine.”

         Clary and Simon entered the room with the same prodding curiosity as the others had yesterday. Clary went straight for the books, frowning at the Devanagari script which rendered that particular section unreadable to her.  

         Simon skimmed over the shelves until a hebrew volume caught his eye. He squinted at the spine, lips moving silently as he tried to read it. “Are these like, books on wizarding? Wizardry? Which term are you supposed to use? Because in-”

         Alec had to choke back a chuckle. “Neither, my kind are called warlocks. Many of these books  _ are _ on magic, though.”

         “ _ Warlocks. _ ” The boy whispered to himself. “ _ That's so cool. _ ” He examined the shelves with renewed interest, raising his voice to ask another question. “So… you can actually learn magic from these? Like can they teach you to be a warlock? How long did it take you?”

         He started to fiddle absently with an implement while he talked. Alec flicked it out of his hands with a twirl of his finger. “No. You’d have to be fathered by a demon, it's not exactly a learned trait.”

         “No way.” Simon turned from the floating object to focus on Alec, something between uneasiness and excitement shifting across his face. “You mean you're part demon?”

         “Half demon, to be precise.” Jace offered. Clary had paused in her hunt for something legible in order to listen to the exchange, apparently he took it as a cue to get involved. 

         Simon pointedly ignored Jace, rushing to speak before he could comment further. “I had no idea that- I mean- from what Clary described, I didn't think they- Uh…” He coughed, turning red as he realized the hole he was digging. “Well, you look pretty normal. I-I mean human. You look human. What?” He asked Clary, who was looking from Simon to Alec’s horns and back in shocked disbelief. “I don’t know what’s offensive or not to these guys-”

         Magnus snorted. “He can’t see anything, can he?” He asked Deifilia. She shrugged defensively. “We just picked him up today, there hasn’t been any time.”

         Simon threw his hands up in a sort of subdued outburst. “Oh my  _ God _ , are they all like this?” He complained to Clary, then turned to Magnus. “What are you even talking about?”

         “He means that the Shadow World isn’t fully visible to you.” Alec answered for him, diverting the aggression. “And he’s right. Come here, I can show you.”

         He reached out a hand, which Simon eyed uneasily. “What are you going to do?”

         “A favor. You’re going to need it if you continue to keep company with Shadowhunters.”

         Simon’s gaze flicked to Clary. His jaw set in determination, and he nodded before she could object. “Alright. Go ahead then.” 

         Alec stepped towards him, igniting a blue spark at his fingertips. Clary tensed as he did so, but didn’t try to stop him. Simon didn’t flinch, despite his hands clenching with anxiety, as Alec touched the cold flame to his forehead. He let it fan out over the boy's eyes and stepped back, waiting for the charm to take effect. 

         Simon blinked, then startled, staring up at Alec with alarm. “Holy shit! Have you-” He looked around the room to see if anyone else had noticed, rewarded with a variety of amused expressions. “Did he- were they always- You have horns.” He announced flatly. “How many people with horns have I not noticed all this time?”

         Alec patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Not all of us have horns, but you've been sharing the world with Downworlders all your life. Human beings were never meant to see what you now can. I can't rightly call it a gift, but now that you've gotten involved, it'll help keep you alive.”

         With nothing else to say on the matter, he turned to Clary, leaving Simon to mull things over. “As for you, while I can't actually recover your memories in an instant, I have something that may speed up the process.” He swept a hand through the air, conjuring ingredients from the kitchen which he bundled into a cloth. The finished product was a two-inch wad wrapped with a dried stem of Mugwort. Clary accepted it hesitantly. “Keep this under your pillow at night. It should help to resurface memories while you sleep, but your dreams will be vivid and not necessarily pleasant.”

         “And how much are these little favors going to cost them?” Jace asked harshly, his tone betraying a layer of concern under the usual sarcasm. Clary looked ready to throw the spell back at Alec, suddenly suspicious of it.

         Alec glared at him. “I think I've taken enough from Clary over the years. I'm not entirely devoid of a conscience. And Simon… You can repay me by not touching my things.” He emphasized with a snap of his fingers that removed another Hebrew tome from the boy's hand. “Now about Valentine. Let's hear the latest news.”

~.~

         Catching upeveryone  turned out to be tedious, what with Simon interrupting to ask a question every few sentences, but in the end they had put together a more or less comprehensive outline: Valentine was definitely alive, and he was after the Cup. It was reasonable to assume he would be going after other Shadowhunters, and experimenting with demons was by no means new to him, which pinned Valentine as the most likely culprit behind the attacks as well.

         Alec didn't bring up their earlier plan to track him, and neither did Magnus. In fact Magnus hadn't spoken much at all during the exchange, quietly taking in both sides as thoughts ticked away behind tired eyes. Alec had to trust him to be the best judge of who to tell, and when to do so.

The Shadowhunters had left soon afterwards, in a hurry to report their theory to the institute. Alec and Isabelle were left to revise their plan, now that Valentine was most likely their target they had a lot of rethinking to do. 

          Alec raked fingers through his hair and ended up tugging absently at a horn as they looked over the map. The green highlight was no longer creeping across the waterfront. He'd called to warn the pack as soon as possible, and the Lycanthropes were holding off on their search until they could better prepare for what they might find. For the time being any new plans would hinge on whether or not the Clave took this seriously, though their best bet was still to track whatever trail Valentine might have left at the zoos. Alec intended to try that whether the Clave sanctioned it or not.

         “What do you think the chances are that he hasn't realized we're working with the Nephilim yet?” He asked Isabelle, who was scrolling idly through her phone, having grown understandably bored of the map. She glanced up with a sympathetic grimace.

         “Honestly? Not high. He's probably been watching them since the attack. You don't put together something like  _ that _ and not stick around to see if it works. And now that they have his daughter…” Her brows knit. “Come to think of it, do you think he knew? About Clarissa I mean. Wouldn't he have tried to capture her too if he did?”

         “Probably. He's not the kind to let go of what he thinks belongs to him.” Alec mused. “But if he didn't before, he must have learned of Jocelyn's daughter by now. I don't think he's too old fashioned to look up records.”

         Isabelle hummed an agreement, but her mind was already elsewhere. He could tell in the way her eyes drifted, a finger tapping her lip thoughtfully. There and gone like butterflies between the rains, Alec had never known his sister to sit stagnant. “How about that boy of yours? I liked him, definitely saw what you meant by ‘electric’.”

         Alec squirmed. “Magnus isn't a ‘boy of mine’. We only really met a day ago. Besides, it sounds creepy when you say it like that.”

         She rolled her eyes. “ _ Mmhm _ , and by dinner you were on a date. Come on, everyone's talking about it, I heard you even threatened a werewolf over him-”

         “I didn't  _ threaten _ anyone! I just… strongly implied that he should shut up. Anyway it wasn't a date, he was- I just-” Alec grasped for a decent explanation. He had no right to tell her about Magnus’ issues -or coping methods- and didn't plan to. “He needed someone to talk to.”

         Izzy patted his hand. “That's sweet, really, but can you honestly tell me you would have done that if you didn't personally want to?”

         “No…” Alec mumbled, dropping his head onto the table as he felt a blush creep up his neck. Isabelle laughed triumphantly. “Why are you always so stubborn Alec? Just admit you really like the guy.”

         “It's been  _ two days _ Iz.”

         “And you've spent most of them talking my ear off about the guy.”

         “You  _ asked _ .”

         “I ask about  _ every _ guy you meet,” She shot back. “you've never been that excited to tell me about one before.”

         “That doesn't mean he feels the same though.” Alec groaned, turning his head to look up at her. “I don't know Iz, I'm not sure he and I actually want the same thing.”

         “Oh?” She leaned back to cross her arms. “Well what do  _ you _ think he wants?”

“I… Ugh I don't know, he's  _ confusing _ .” The last time they’d spoken Magnus couldn't seem make up his mind between opening up or just toying with Alec. Then he seemed to relax today, only to close up again as soon as the others arrived. At this point Alec didn't have the faintest idea where they stood. “I mean he wouldn't even look at me today, I don't know if he still wants anything at all.”

         “Oh, he was looking. Just not at the same times as you were.”

         Alec hesitated. “Really?”

         “Mhmm. And he was glaring daggers any time that cute Mundane made you smile.”

         Alec squinted, trying to recall what she was talking about. “What?”

         “You know, Simon I think his name was? He snapped at Jace and you cracked up.”

         “Oh.” Alec frowned, then smirked, raising an eyebrow at her. “Cute, huh?” Isabelle swatted him.

         “Shut up, we're talking about you right now. But don't tell me you didn't notice.”

         Alec shrugged. “Not really my type. Anyway I don't know why that would mean anything, he was obviously drooling over you the whole time.”

         “Humph. Well I'm sure Magnus would be happy to hear both those things, because it looked to me like he didn't want you smiling at anyone but him. And you don't get jealous like that unless you want  _ something _ . Anyway he only got weird after his family showed up, so he was probably just shy around them. You know how Shadowhunters get about sexuality and all.”

         Alec snorted. “Believe me, I do. But he wasn't shy about it yesterday, so why would that change?”

         “Because there were strangers with them today, duh!” Izzy exhaled her exasperation, then looked back at him with a softer expression. “Don't overthink things for once, okay? Just trust me on this and keep trying, I think it's worth a shot.”

         Alec nodded, then turned away as his face heated up again. He swirled the coffee around in his mug, absently drawing out droplets to dance in the air as he spoke. “He really is beautiful though, isn't he? Did you see his eyes?”

         He could sense Isabelle's smile without looking up. She rubbed his shoulder affectionately. “He really is, nice sense of style too.”

         Alec hummed in agreement. “He reminded me of an Assassin bug today, and yesterday it was a lighting storm, do you think he does it on purpose?”

         “Maybe.” Isabelle chuckled, poking at the floating droplets. They had started to shimmer and turn colors, shifting like a metronome to Alec's thoughts. “Though I'm not sure many people look at things the same way you do, so who knows?”

         Alec set the droplets whirling to dodge her fingertips. It was easier to talk this way, with something to distract his focus, it helped alleviate the urge to squirm under attention. Izzy was happy to oblige, mostly because she knew it was easier to get a story out of him this way.

         He ran the shimmering fluid through and around his fingers in a pensive motion. “Maybe not. Though, if anyone did it would be him. I think.”

         “Mm, because he's ‘so wonderfully clever’. That's how you described it, right?”

         “No- I mean he is, but I wasn't talking about that. I mean when we talk it's like we're on the same page the whole time. You know how they say with the right person you can talk about nothing for hours without getting bored? It wasn't like that, there was never  _ nothing  _ to talk about. The whole night he didn’t run out of something interesting to say, I've never met someone like him before.”

         Isabelle smiled, just for a moment, before her expression turned sad. “What happens when Boswit finds out?”

         Alec sighed. “I don't know yet.”

 

*     *     *

 

         They left the apartment just in time for the evening rush, cramming together on the subway with the Mundane hords on their way to or from work. Magnus smirked to himself as he watched the others begrudgingly coexist. They could have fit in a taxi, and nobody said so out loud but they all knew they'd chosen not to because nobody wanted to be stuffed in that close to each other.  _ -The best laid plans.- _

         He was perched on a windowsill behind his sister, glamoured so no one would tell him not to. Everyone else had chosen to remain visible so as to not get trampled in the crowd. Dei had claimed the only available seat, leaving Jace and the rest to stand nearby, where they were enacting a jealousy shuffle. 

         Jace clearly wanted to be as close to Clary and far from Simon as possible, while Simon seemed to be willing to tolerate his proximity for the sake of wedging himself between the two. To poor Simon's dismay, Clary kept orbiting Jace like there were magnets strapped to his hips. 

         “I thought you said she wasn't like that with Jace.” He whispered to his sister, who elbowed him in the shin. She was relatively self-conscious about talking to invisible people in public, so she replied in text, holding her phone up enough for him to read over her shoulder. (No, I said he had the decency to keep a shirt on. She's ridiculous with Jace.)

         “Ridiculous is an understatement, she's like the thirst  _ queen _ .”

         Deifilia snorted, struggling to contain a laugh. (Look at Jace though, I've never seen him like this. It was like he got obsessed the moment he saw her.)

         Magnus hummed in agreement. Watching Simon try yet again to slide inconspicuously between the lovebirds made him feel stupid for the jealousy earlier. Actually he felt stupid for most of his behavior earlier. He'd been fine with being all over Alec the other day, when he thought it was a game, but today… Something was different, and terrifyingly so. Like if they were to stand less than a yard apart it would light up over his head like a neon sign for the world to see. So instead of going after what he  _ wanted _ , he was holding back and getting jealous of straight guys and the man's own sister. 

         Everything about it was a mess, but what was he supposed to do? He was never supposed to get anything remotely close to  _ feelings _ for a guy, or a Downworlder for that matter. He wasn't sure which could be deemed worse, but  _ both _ was certainly unforgivable.

         Dei nudged him out of his thoughts, holding up the phone again to ask a question. (So… What are you spacing out about?)

         “I'm not spacing out. I'm people watching.” 

         (Please. Is it L’Morne? What's the situation between you two anyway?)

         “Who says there's a situation?”

         (Your face, Mag. It's not subtle.)

         “Oh  _ shut up, _ I'm subtle, you're just obsessed with my love life.” Magnus shoved her with his leg, almost toppling her into neighboring passengers. This was the second time today he'd been told that, it wasn't flattering.

         Dei pushed herself upright by digging a fist heavily into his foot. (I'm pretty sure people in SPACE could tell you have a thing for him. So what's going on? Does Isabelle have something to do with it?)

         “Psh, no.” He said as though it had never concerned him at any point. “She's his sister -half sister. On their mom's side, I think.”

         Deifilia turned to look at him wide-eyed before remembering the glamour and pretending to notice something outside, then turned back to typing frantically. (Are you serious?? I've never heard of that happening before! Why didn't they say anything about it at the apartment?)

         “I don't know. He's super secretive about her for some reason, maybe it's just being protective, but it's not in his records or anything -the Clave doesn't even know.”

         (And he just told you this freely?)

         “Well, no, she told me. She doesn't seem to care as much, but maybe we should keep it to ourselves for now anyway.”

         (Oh wonderful, because I just love keeping secrets. Especially for you. It's my favorite.)

         “But you're just so good at it dear sister~” He teased. The train came to a stop before she could reply, and at the sight of more looming commuters Jace announced  that they were close enough to walk.

         ‘Close’ was a bit of an exaggeration, but the weather was pleasantly moderate and it gave everyone some breathing room before they had to contend with the Institute. Deifilia dragged Magnus to a snail's pace until they'd built a bit of distance from the others, determined to continue interrogating him about L'Morne.

         “So why were you there without us today?” 

         Magnus rolled his eyes. “He and I  _ both _ already explained, he invited me over to talk about the DNA thing.”

         “Yeah, and then he had to explain it all over again. Why didn't you just wait for us?”

         “I- Well it's not like I was expecting you all to stop by! I figured I could get the information and update you later today…” 

         “Riiight.” His sister scoffed. “And it had nothing at all to do with the opportunity for more one-on-one time?”

         “Shut up.”

         Deifilia laughed. “What about the other night then?”

         “What about it?”

         “What happened between you two? Did you end up… Y'know…”

         Magnus snorted. “ _ No _ ,” He grumbled. “and not for lack of trying either! He got all gentlemanly and took me out to dinner instead."

         Dei did a little double take. “Are you serious?”

         “Well I'm not Pollux.”

         She frowned at the quip, and continued staring like there was something significant going through her head. “That's… I didn't see that coming. But you went for it? That's where you were all night?”

         Magnus shrugged, looking out at the street where he didn't have to meet her prying eyes. “I guess so. I mean, some of it was spent walking around-”

         “So an actual date.” She'd started to sound excited, Magnus wasn't sure why, but he didn't like it.

         “I wouldn't call it that…” He began guardedly.

         “Why not? It sounds like one t-”

         “Because I don't  _ do dates _ ! I've sworn off the things. Dates are for morons and people with good luck, and I am neither.” He huffed. “I just needed something to keep me out of the Institute for a bit.”

         Deifilia huffed too, though more out of exasperation. It was obvious she didn't believe him, but she already knew pushing it wasn't going to get anywhere. “Well are you planning to tell him that?”

         “Of course.”

         “Before or after you get him to sleep with you?”

         “I… -You know what? That's none of your business. Actually none of this is your business. Go bother Jace why don't you?” With that Magnus picked up the pace, his longer leg span quickly leaving her behind.

         “As if I could pry him from Ginger's cold dead fingers!” She called after him. “Wait up!” 

         He didn't.

         So maybe it was a bit of a date, and maybe he'd liked it, but that didn't mean he had to admit to the fact. And absolutely not out loud.

         They were in sight of the Institute when Simon felt the need to start a conversation. He had been keeping pace with Magnus, who was caught up in his own business and trying not to pay the other boy any attention. Apparently taking hints wasn't his strong suit.

         “Hey, um,” Simon began with the utmost eloquence. Magnus granted him a sidelong stare in return. “sorry about earlier. With your boyfriend, I didn't mean anything- I wouldn't even- I mean I'm not even  _ in  _ to that, it's just- You seemed mad so I wanted to clear that up?”

         Magnus was too bemused for a snappy comeback -if this even warranted a comeback. The guy actually seemed completely sincere about… well, whatever it was he was trying to say. Simon fidgeted awkwardly in the silence that followed, before he could open his mouth again Dei pulled his head down to hiss in his ear.

         “Look, Mundie boy. Before we enter that building, there are a couple of  _ very  _ important things you need to understand. First off, Shadowhunters do not  _ date  _ Downworlders. Secondly, Boswit's son  _ is not interested in other men. _ Got it? So no matter what you see, or hear, or find painfully obvious, you  _ do not  _ bring it up anywhere near these walls.” 

         With that, she let go and drifted off to join Jace, leaving Simon confused and mildly terrified. Magnus couldn't help apologizing at his wide eyed stare.

         “What is _ with  _ you people?” He exclaimed, giving some kind of helpless flail of frustration. “How is it that every time I say something it pisses one of you off? What was that even about?”

         Magnus shrugged. “She’s just being protective, I guess. Dei can get a little overbearing, but she's just worried about keeping the peace.”

         “Peace with  _ who _ ? Hitler? The Puritans? Who the hell is  _ Boswit _ anyway?”

         “Markus Boswit is my father.” Magnus sighed. “And the head of the New York Institute. He's…”  _ -A fucking asshole.-  _ “Pretty old-fashioned, it's best not to rock the boat too much around here.”

         Something was changing in Simon's expression. It was hard to identify, too strong to be concern and more gentle than anger. It made Magnus feel guilty for no real reason that he could place. Simon’s voice was softer when he replied. “Or else what?”

         Magnus made an involuntary, bitter little sound. “Depends what you're worth to him.”

         They had reached the doors and Jace was there in a flash, showing off to Clary with how a Shadowhunter could will open the entrance to any holy place. Simon clamped down on whatever he was going to say, and Magnus was happy to leave it at that. He ducked through the doors as soon  as they were open, leaving the others to their stupid little staredown. 

         Their first priority was contacting Markus to update him on Clary and the attacks. Predictably, he wasn't pleased. Deifilia did most of the talking, which helped, but he refused to even hear the idea of an investigation plan until he was back to oversee it personally.

         Standing at attention in front of a screen, Magnus shifted uncomfortably under his father's icy glare. He was trying not to react to anything said, no action to draw attention to himself and anything he might possibly have done wrong. They had a system going: Deifilia, the favorite, managed the situation. Jace, the prodigy, took responsibility, and Magnus, whom Markus had loathed unconditionally for longer than he cared to remember, disappeared. They didn't talk about this system, it was never planned or acknowledged, it was just what happened when their father was involved. It worked, more or less.

         Right now they were debating the credibility of L’Morne’s information. Which, honestly, was only being called into question because Markus would rather blame a Downworlder than admit to an oversight. The Clave had decided that Valentine was dead and gone, they had been operating blithely around this assumption for 18 years, and therefore any implication that he still lived was a direct insult to their competence.

         “I will not waste the Clave’s time with the  _ assumptions _ of a warlock.” Markus declared firmly over the crackle of electronic interference. They had caught him during a stop over at the Munich Institute on the way to Idris, and the heavy rune energy in the older Shadowhunter Institutes tended to screw with their modern electronics. “It is a mistake to trust in the honesty of Downworlders. For all we know he could be intentionally misinforming us.”

         “To what purpose?” Magnus piped up against all judgement. “You've trusted him so far, he's given us a cure and valuable information, and he's been a reliable asset to the Clave for decades-”

         “He is a  _ warlock _ . Evil is in their nature -their very blood-, and they change sides as it suits them. Never trust one beyond what money can buy.”

         “But-”

         “ _ Enough _ , Magnus! I will not tolerate you trying to undermine my decisions. Perhaps it was too optimistic to hope you could remember appropriate conduct for even a day of my absence.”

         On reflex Deifilia stepped between them, or perhaps Magnus had moved behind her, it was hard to be sure. Jace had that pale, distant look he took on whenever Markus reminded him too much of his own father.

         “It's not just a rumor though, Father.” Dei pressed carefully. “We have his daughter here, and this could even lead us to the Cup. Surely it's too important to ignore?”

        “I know,  _ schatje _ .” Markus’ tone softened to address his daughter, he almost sounded gentle. “That's why I will be returning as soon as possible to look into this personally. But until we have something solid to present, we will not bother the Clave with it. Do you understand?”

         Deifilia nodded, because it wasn't really a question, and it brooked no further argument.  

         “What about Clary?” Jace pitched in unexpectedly. He was still standing rigidly at attention, but his eyes had shifted back to the present, bright with feeling. “Her mother is still missing, and the Silent Brothers will already have sent news of what they learned from her mind today. What do you plan to do about that?”

         Markus stared at him for a long moment. It was close enough to a challenge to have angered him, but their father tended to be careful in regards to Jace. Maybe it was because Jace wasn't his own child, or he felt some kind of obligation to the Waylands, but he never hit him, and he tried to keep outbursts to a minimum. Still, it was unusual for Jace to push him like this. Markus was clearly processing how to react.

         “... I will meet with the Clave as planned, and we will discuss whatever  _ facts _ we know of the situation. They will decide how to proceed with the Fairchild girl.” Markus glowered from Jace to Magnus and back. “I will be returning in three days. Until then I expect you to follow orders, and maintain my Institute with some semblance of responsibility.”

         And that's the end of it. They nod, they give their lifeless farewells, they are dismissed, and life resumes. Jace scurried off to retrieve Clary and the Mundane from wherever he'd convinced them to wait, while Dei went to find Hodge. Magnus, no longer needed, retreated upstairs.

         First stop was his room, to pace, and sit, and pace again. Then he was applying runes for agility and surefootedness and heading for another staircase. Up and up and to the furthest room in the back of the institute, where a window opened wide enough for a person to slip out onto the ledge. From there it was a high jump to the next ridge, and a short climb to the roof. It was a good place to be left alone, Magnus had been using it to hide out from his father for years, and sometimes it helped to escape the thought of him as well.

        The Institute roof offered a pleasant view, and for some reason was one of the few high places that didn't give Magnus the urge to jump. Also, and perhaps best of all, there was always a stashed bottle of something alcoholic that Jace hadn't managed to find and dump out yet. Today that something was rum, and Magnus was working up to a pleasant buzz as he watched the sun set.

         As the last rays of light disappeared to reveal streetlamps, a restless thought pushed its way to the surface, prompting him to make a call. With all the stress over convincing his father and the Clave to act, Magnus had forgotten his own plans. L'Morne took his sweet time about picking up. 

         [“Hello?”] The words were garbled amidst static and the thunk and clatter of background noise, it sounded like Alec’s phone was on speaker and at a distance. Something crackled as he continued in ominous tones. [“I hope this is important, because I'm right in the middle of something.”]

         “Should I call back later?” Magnus answered with a touch of reproach. 

         There was a silence, then a faint intake of breath and a much friendlier tone of voice. [“Magnus. Sorry, I wasn't expecting you.”]

         “Mm, sounds like I called at a  bad time.”

         [“No, not at all!”] Alec replied, hastily and closer to the receiver. [“It's just a minor project. What did you want to talk about? How did the report go?”]

         Magnus was in the process of smiling when the thought of the report deflated it. “Miserably. He's coming back in a few days to ‘asses the situation for himself’. Until then we just let people die, I guess.”

         [“Great. I wish that were surprising.”] Somewhere in the background a teakettle shrieked, and the conversation was interrupted by the sounds of water changing vessels and a short, muttered incantation. [“So, does this bring us back to plan A?”]

         “You bet.” Magnus took a moment to inscribe a circle around himself, connected by a silencing rune. It was a modification he’d discovered through ill-advised experimentation, Instead of muffling a room, it created an isolated little cone of silence within the circle. Not that anyone was likely to be  listening in on him here, but you could never be too careful with people like Raj around. “Just give me a time and place.”

         [“Well I imagine the zoo would be the logical place.”] Alec remarked loudly over the hissing of hot fluid, or possibly  tiny, distant voices. [“As for the time, what would work best to get you there and back without drawing attention? The last thing I want is for you-”]

         Magnus laughed, harshened just a bit too much by inebriation. “Honey, I doubt they'd even bother asking questions if I were to waltz out the front door at midday in a safari getup. How does tomorrow sound?” 

         There was a strangled sound that may have been laughter from Alec's end. [“Sounds like a plan.”] If he had anything else to say it was swallowed by a sudden violent wailing. Something shattered and Alec swore in what must have been Purgatic because no human language growled like that. Then the scream was cut off, dissipating into a wet gurgle. [“Sorry. Didn't expect it to go off like that.”]

         “What on  _ earth _ are you up to over there?”

         [“I'm, uh-”] He sounded sheepish amidst the clack-clatter of mixing and whatever else was going on. [“It's a warding tincture. For- for wards. I mean-  _ Jodido _ \- just a second.”] 

         “I don't think I've ever heard of a warding  _ tincture _ before.” Magnus commented over the noise of busywork. “Do tell.”

         [“Um, it's kind of like a charm, but liquid? It can be spread along a perimeter, or across an entryway to prevent anything from passing through. It's not permanent, but it's powerful.”]

         “Are you making a hideout or something?”

         [“What? Oh- No, this is for a client.”]

         Now it sounded like he was holding something between his teeth. Magnus itched with the desire to be there and see what was going on in person. “And… Do I want to know what the screaming was?”

         [“Well, if you were anyone else I'd say no, but… That was a woe egg.”]

         Maybe Magnus was more drunk than he realized, because that sounded like utter nonsense. “Alexander, what the everloving fuck is a ‘woe egg’.”

         This time the laugh wasn't choked back. [“It's the byproduct of a practise where someone channels all of their distress into a bird's egg, then buries it, as a method of removing the negativity from themselves. If the feeling is intense enough it, erm, ferments -for lack of a better word- concentrating over time into a tangible manifestation of raw emotion. It basically works as a powerful propellant for spells, usually curses, but there are other techniques.”]

         And with that they were lost in conversation again. Just like the other night. It went from magic to philosophy, to life in general, and just like that night they lost all track of time. 

         It was the audible chattering of his own teeth that finally alerted Magnus to how cold it had gotten on the roof, hours later. By then both his legs were numb and his runes had faded. It was a stiff climb down, a clumsy journey back inside, and a fumbling search for leftovers in the dark of the upstairs kitchen as he tried not to wake his siblings.

         When Magnus finally flopped into bed with a slice of cold pizza, he told himself that the fluttering was from drinking on an empty stomach, and not butterflies at all. And restless hours later, watching the moon peek in and out from behind orange clouds, he insisted that he had not been dreaming about a pair of huge blue eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey thank you all so much for reading, I cannot overstate how much I appreciate you and your support. This story is far from over, but I'm gonna need to take another little hiatus while I sort out my life a bit.  
> I'm kinda battling a tangle of health issues right now and desperately trying to find a new job, so I'm not going to really be able to focus on writing until that's settled. But, assuming I continue to avoid nuclear annihilation, I'll be updating again before you know it.  
> Until then you can always hit me up at [my tumblr!](https://basuralindo.tumblr.com)


	6. Beyond the Comforts of the Sick Sick Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Title lyrics from [Make Me A Bird](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JvBB-WAI4cw), by Elektrik People.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh woah turns out I'm still alive, look at that. For real though, I'm sorry for the big gap in updates, and I can't promise anything but I'll at least try to be more consistent. Thank you guys for sticking around, this fic would've crashed and burned like three chapters ago without all your support. Speaking of which, special thanks to FeliciaGrace for some really well timed encouragement giving me that last much needed push to get back on this project.
> 
> Now, for my narrative convenience, let's pretend that in this alternate universe, where magic is real and demons roam the earth, that the bronx zoo has a completely different layout from our own and they are visiting the exhibits in a plausible order.

 

         Big talk aside, Magnus’ morning was a flurry of nerves. Disobeying his father, going behind his siblings’ backs, flirting with Downworlders… these were all things he  was used to. Just, not all at the same time.

         It didn't help that everyone was in a mild frenzy over the new Valentine situation. Truth be told, Magnus wasn't a great liar. Not that he didn't make an effort, but he mostly relied on bending the truth and, mainly, on being ignored. Today, though, everyone was coming at him with questions.  _ “How much do you know?” _ , _ “Can she remember anything yet?” _ , _ “What did the warlock say?” _ , _ “What about the Cup?” _ . It was an onslaught. Even Hodge managed to pin him down for a grilling.

         “Why don't you ask my sister? Or Jace? I hear he’s been at Clary's side since he found her, if anyone has answers for you it'd be him.” Magnus complained. Hodge didn't budge.

         “And  _ you _ haven't. I hear you stayed behind with the High Warlock, any reason?”

         “We weren't done discussing the attack. Someone had to stick around to wrap it up, and you know how those two have the whole inseparable Parabatai thing going on.”

         Hodge nodded without appearing convinced. Which was rude, frankly, considering it was all true even if not  _ entirely _ honest.

         “I haven't seen hide nor hair of you since. Where have you been, Magnus?”

         Magnus snorted indignantly. “The same place I always am,  _ out _ . Come on, why the sudden interrogation? I thought you were on my side.”

         His old teacher retreated some, face creasing sympathetically. “I'm not trying to harass you, it's just concern-”

         “Concern over  _ what _ ? I'm not doing anything new, I just can't take this place when things start to boil over. Which, you may have noticed, is exactly what they're doing right now, so if you don't mind I'm getting out of here before someone reels me into an errand.” On that note, Magnus fled. He did spare a moment of guilt over Hodge's inability to do the same, but if he didn't escape the conversation now something was inevitably going to slip.

         It was odd behavior for Hodge though. He'd always been pretty lax about Mag's comings and goings, even when he was still a minor, it wasn't like him to start fretting out of the blue. Granted, he also hadn't had to deal with the possibility of Valentine coming back from the dead before now, so it was probably stress.

         He waited until he was a safe distance from the Institute before texting Alec. They'd decided that business hours would be the least conspicuous time to investigate the zoo in case Valentine turned out to be keeping tabs. Since that was during the day, Isabelle wouldn't be able to make it, which left just the two of them. 

_ - _ Definitely _ not a date- _ . Magnus reminded himself. Now was absolutely not the time for that. This was a mission, he was working, there were lives on the line. Just because it was technically a covert operation with an alluring and mysterious stranger didn't suddenly make his life a romance novel.

 

= Two Hours Later =

         A vulture was following Magnus. Not that that made any sense, but there it was. After three busses and a subway trip, after meandering and backtracking and everything else to avoid being tailed, there it was. Perched on a telephone pole. Watching him watch it.

_ -Right.- _ Said that doubting, undermining voice in his head, the one which sounded sometimes like his father, and sometimes like Jace. Right now it was Jace.  _ -Because there couldn't  _ possibly _ be more than one bird in the entire city.- _

         But he was sure this was the same one. It had a subtly misshapen head, something that looked like horns, and really, how often did vultures behave like that? After all, demons, fey, and even some warlocks could shapeshift. A spy of Valentine's could be a bird on a wire just as easily as a face in a crowd.

         The vulture preened its wing, and Magnus had trouble not feeling just a little paranoid, but he watched it anyway. He'd stopped just outside the park, and all he could do now was wait and see what it did. Which, for the most part, was wait on him.

         Eventually it got bored or restless and took off, dipping into the trees across the street. Magnus followed.

         By the time he got into the park there was no sign of the bird, nor any carrion that may have attracted it. It was possible that he'd misjudged its trajectory, but the vulture seemed to have vanished into the eerie hush of trees.

         Out of that still and heavy air came a presence, the brush of wind, the sound of wings. Magnus ducked and whirled, his body moving quicker than his thoughts, flicking a knife from sleeve to hand -and there was Alec. Something guilty and amused played across his face, light whispering between splayed fingers. Magnus deflated in an exhale and put the knife away.

         “Alexander. You startled the shit outta me.”

         “Sorry.”

         Alec dropped his hand and whatever ward it carried. He was dressed in the same enchanted hat from the other night, and an almost identical coat. Apparently loose sweaters were his informal go-to, because this was the third time in a row Magnus had seen him in one. Although this one might actually qualify as a thick shirt. Either way, it was a shade of navy blue that flattered his eyes, and hung off his collarbones in a way that- That Magnus should not be thinking about right now, because  _ they were working _ ! 

         What his errant mind  _ should _ have been examining was how L’Morne  seemed to have materialized out of thin air, because that warranted questions. Sure, he was a warlock, and maybe he'd just portaled here, but it was still weird.

         “When did you…-”

         “I was checking the area for any sign of the Circle. I trust you made it alright?”

         Magnus snorted. “Of course, why wouldn't I? Traversing New York in the middle of the day isn't exactly high risk.”

         “True, but I'd rather be overcautious than unprepared.” Alexander admitted, and after a moment gave way to a wry smile. “Isabelle's right, by the way, you can call me Alec. I know I was complaining, but to be honest, I'm not actually used to hearing my full name used casually.”

         “Right, I'll try. But now that you mention it, there was this bird-”

         “It won't be a problem.”

         “But-”

         “I’ve set up a perimeter, so I'll know if anything demonic -or angelic- passes over.”

         That sounded avoidant to Magnus, but he wasn't given time to question it. Not that he knew what he would say anyways  _ -“No really, it was a  _ very _ suspicious bird, we should check it out”? I don't think so- _ . Alec led the way with an air of retreat, and Magnus was determined not to forget about it, up until he actually entered the zoo. After that, all he cared about was taking it all in.

         There were five zoos and an aquarium in New York. He'd read about them here and there, but for some reason had never gotten around to visiting a single one before now. Between the gloom of life in the Institute and the general malevolence of Church, the only pet in there, he'd allowed himself to forget just how much he loved animals.

         The first thing to remind him was the sound of birds. A familiar cackling call rang out from an exhibit, carrying with it memories of white feathers and blue eyes, birds imitating his mother's voice when she cooed to them. Mynas. He'd seen them when he visited his mother's family in Indonesia as a child. The memory had faded to something dreamlike years ago, but it was rushing back now. Birds, monkeys, water buffalo. He could remember collecting hermit crabs on the beach with a six year old Deifilia, making racetracks for them in the sand…

         Magnus was off like a shot in search of the birds themselves. He needed to see them in person. To solidify that piece of his mother which had almost been lost to time and neglect. Alec trailed close behind him, it wasn't until they reached the doors  that Magnus realized he was pulling him along by the wrist. He let go with half an apology but didn't slow down.

         A few more steps and there they were, like he remembered, flitting between the trees like-  _ -Like snowballs in the summer.- _ For some reason that's what his child mind had compared them to, back then. It seemed like such a goofy thing to say, but looking at them now he could see why he'd thought that. The colors were icy and ethereal in their jungle setting. He realized belatedly that his mouth was moving, forming half-forgotten words in a rusty language, hoping somewhere in the back of his mind that these birds would repeat them.

         The only reply was from Alexander, somewhere over his shoulder. “That's Javanese, right?”

         Magnus swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat before replying. “Yeah. They're Bali Mynahs, sometimes they’ll mimic people. I didn't realize we had them here.” The memory had hit him hard, and his eyes were stinging, but Magnus managed to keep his voice steady. By the time he turned around there were no tells.

         Alec still seemed  like he could see right through it, but Magnus was starting to get used to that. He threw on a smile all the same. “Well, no sense hanging around here all day. Shall we?”

         Alec didn't protest, he also didn't say anything about, well, whatever had just gone on with Magnus. Who still wasn't quite sure himself. It was sweet, in a way. Magnus had never really had someone pay close enough attention to notice his moods, let alone respect them, besides maybe Deifilia. Camille had always been either distant or right up in his face, no room in her agenda for his feelings. This, though… This was nice.

         Of course, it wasn't like Alec never got caught up in his own agenda. When they exited the bird exhibit he was already studying a map of the zoo. 

         “This says the ‘African Plains’ area is that way, we could probably cut through-”

         “Oh come on Alexander, wasn't the whole point of this to look like we were just visiting, like normal people? Live a little.” Magnus chided playfully.

         “I- You're right, heading there directly might be obvious.” He conceded.

         “Of course I'm right. Now come on, that looks like a hippo over there, I've always  wanted to see one in person.”

         Alec squinted again at the map as he allowed Magnus to drag him along. “I don't think they  _ have _ a hippo at this zoo…”

         “Then it must be a wet rhinoceros. Or a very small elephant. Either way I want to see it so let's go!”

         To Magnus’ surprise, it did turn out to be a wet rhinoceros, which made Alec smile. “I remember the first time I saw one of these, it was at night, and Izzy and I were sure they were demons. We'd never seen anything like them before.”

         “You didn't hurt them did you?”

         “No. They didn't smell demonic, so we left them alone. I went back while the sun was up to investigate,  and they were still there, living as animals do. Africa was quite a learning experience.”

         Magnus stared out at the enclosure, trying to picture them in the wild. “I would love to go there someday.” He mused.

         “I would love to take you.”

         The offer slipped out so casually it sounded par for the course, like he'd forgotten the potential weight of their association, or the distance they'd been futilely trying to maintain. Magnus stared as Alec fumbled, grasping for some excuse or explanation and finding none. Eventually he settled into a flustered silence, looking everywhere but Mag's eyes.

         Magnus grinned, startling him. “You know, I just might take you up on that.”

         Alec blinked uncertainly before relaxing into a hesitant smile. “Then I'll try not to disappoint.”

* * *

         They hopped from one exhibit to the next, Alec watching Magnus watch the animals. He lit up like a beacon with each new creature, delight rendering him even more beautiful than Alec had thought possible.

         His joy dimmed slightly when they found the monkeys, mixing suddenly with pain and desire. It was an expression Alec had seen enough times in his life to recognize as mourning. As with the birds, he thought it best not to ask.

        Magnus spoke on his own eventually, voice distant as he watched a group of black and orange monkeys. A plaque denoted them as Langurs. “I recognize these too, from when I visited Indonesia as a kid. I tried to feed one -it might have been a different species, I can't remember. It was a long time ago, but the thing damn nearly took my finger off.” He chuckled softly, mostly to himself. “At the time I didn't realize they lived in large groups. My mom had to come chase them off of me, by the time she got there they'd already taken all my food and one of my shoes. She was beside herself, didn't want to let me out of her sight after that. Of course the second she did I was tying food to a long stick for another try.”

         Alec laughed despite himself, and Magnus smiled. “The monkeys there are little bastards, but I loved them.” He didn't say anything more about his mother. By his demeanor, Alec was surprised that he was willing to mention her at all. 

         When the silence grew to be awkward, he leaned over to peek at Alec's map. “There're tigers here?! Why didn't you say anything? Come on we're going this instant!” And with that, Alec was dragged haphazardly across the zoo in search of an exhibit called “Tiger mountain”.

         Sure enough, there were tigers. There was also a tug o’ war rope, and before he knew it Alec was talked into helping compete against what turned out to be one of Magnus’ favorite animals. On the strolls between exhibits and novelty foods he learned that Magnus’ other favorite animals broadly consisted of lions, leopards, jaguars, bobcats, ocelots, cougars, and every housecat except for a creature called Church.

         “How did Church become the exception?” He was compelled to ask as they were leaving the Snow Leopard area.

         Magnus sniffed theatrically, raising his chin with proud indignation. “He’s been ratting on me since I was old enough to reach the cookie jar. Hasn't let up since.”

         Alec laughed so hard the wind picked up. Magnus, he decided, was a treasure. The epiphany came with mixed adoration and dread. He'd never felt quite like this about someone before. No conversation, no moment together, was long enough. Regardless of any risk or improbability involved Alec couldn't stop thinking about him, even when doing so made it hard to breathe.

         Magnus turned to say something else, his lips parted but the words never came out. Instead he paused, staring with oddly softened eyes, sunlight streaming through his lashes and casting shadows across his cheeks. Not for the first time, Alec wanted nothing more than to kiss him on the spot.

         Magnus leaned forward ever so slightly, his gaze drifted downward from Alec’s eyes, the moment stretched… 

         And snapped. Magnus looked away, mumbling something indecipherable, and turned his attention to the map. “Look, we're headed towards the African Plains, that's where the hyenas are right?” He didn't wait for a reply. “And there's lions, couldn't be more perfect. About time we got this over with, right?”

         He retreated down the path without looking back. Alec followed dejectedly. He was more frustrated with himself than anything. Magnus was right, they had a job to do, and they'd been stalling long enough. What was wrong was that he'd let himself forget that. Today wasn't a date, and he was being selfish to treat it like one.

         Caught up in thought as he was, Alec didn't notice the aura until he was well into the thick of it. There was a heaviness around them, coagulated and clinging and  _ wrong _ , so intense that it was almost suffocating. Several feet ahead, Magnus seemed to sense it too. His spine shivered and stiffened, and he turned, very slowly, to meet Alec's eyes.

         “Is this what the trace of warlock magic feels like?” He whispered, soft enough for only Alec to hear. 

         Alec shook his head. “No. This- something's wrong with this.”  _ -It's not a trace, it's an onslaught.- _ “Nobody would leave something like this if they weren't trying to be caught. This took effort.” Looking around, he could see that even the Mundanes were uncomfortable, hurrying by with stiff shoulders, unwilling to linger. No birds or squirrels congregated here. It was like a poison in the air.

         It radiated in noxious waves from the direction of the enclosures. The specific one, the hyenas, was easy to find, as the nearby animals were prowling in aggravated crescents as far from it as their fences would allow. Magnus observed them from the boundary fence with unmasked distress.

         “What's happening? If it's not a warlock, then what's doing this? Is it a curse?”

         Again Alec shook his head. “Curses feel like malice. This feels like fear.”  _ -Fear… and something else.- _

         Alec closed his eyes and focused his mind, extending himself outward like he was taught as a child.  _ To walk among the  _ Xapiripe _ , in the spaces between soul and body _ . His surroundings shifted perspective, the plants and animals changing from solid forms to flickering auras. The waves were more apparent now, fluttering like a sickly heartbeat, radiating from a bright point near the back of the pen. 

         Each pulse brought an onslaught of sensation. Terror, hunger, illness, a stabbing pain and a burning ache that radiated up his neck and into his head. It was like a beacon of raw feeling. At its root it was clearly warlock magic, but woven in like a strangling vine was something else, a similar something to what fueled the warthog venom.

_ -This is a plea for help- _ He realized with a start. Alec moved in closer, trying to understand the source of the call. It was a violent, roiling glow, flaring up from between the grasses. Alec reached for it, took hold, and pulled back into himself.

         When he opened his eyes, a zookeeper was trying to apologize for the state of the exhibit. Magnus was standing nervously between them. He was chatting, Alec realized, to draw the woman's attention away from him. She was on the tail end of explaining that it had been like this since the disappearance, and maybe the animals were just spooked, but the zoo  is doing everything they can to figure it out.

         “Has it been like this at the other one too?” Alec asked. It seemed to startle her and Magnus, probably because he'd been so still while his mind worked.

         She paused to consider, staring forlornly at the animals. “No, they haven't mentioned anything. It's just been us.” After a moment her expression darkened. “I hope they catch the sicko who did this soon. I just want Zuberi to be okay.”

         Magnus’ hand twitched as though he'd intended to reach out. Instead he settled for a sympathetic nod. “Me too. I'm sure someone's out there trying.”

         The zookeeper sighed and straightened up, plastering on a customer service smile. She gave them a stiff “thank you” and left, as eager to be away from the place as every other living thing.

         Magnus whirled to face him as soon as she was out of earshot. “What the fuck was  _ that _ ?” He hissed. “One second you're talking to me, the next you just checked out, were you doing a spell or having an absence seizure?”

         “I- I was investigating.” Alec explained apologetically. He continued before Magnus could say whatever else he was gearing up for. “But I found something, look.” He was still linked to the object in the field, and with a motion he summoned it into his hand to show Magnus.

         Magnus looked it over dubiously. “It's a pebble.” 

         “It’s- well, yeah, it is a pebble.” Alec conceded once he was seeing it with his actual eyes. A small chunk of stone about the size of his thumb, it had probably been the nearest usable material at hand. “But it's where the aura is coming from. Someone imprinted on it, like… Like a psychic SOS, kind of.”

         Magnus picked it up for a closer look, but dropped it just as quickly. He shuddered and rubbed his hand. “Well I can't argue that it's horrible. What made it?”

         “A warlock. But th- there's something wrong, they feel sick in some way. I think whoever it is is being forced somehow.” Alec closed his hand around the stone, containing it in a layer of wards until he had time to examine it. Magnus relaxed visibly, if not consciously, as the aura dissipated. “I’ll have to look into it more tonight, with some luck I might be able to track the one who made it.”

          “Really?” Magnus brightened up. “That's fantastic! How long will it take?”

         “I don't know yet, it's a rough message, it could take days to detangle.” Alec was going to need to sift through the raw sensory for anything that might be helpful. He wasn't looking forward to the process.

         “Oh.” Magnus’ sudden optimism died down, and he glanced back at the exhibit where the hyenas were starting to unwind and investigate the sudden absence of tension. “Do you-” He bit his lip. “I just want that hyena to be okay.”

         Alec nodded. “I'll do whatever I can.”

         Magnus turned to him with a sharp stare. “Never tell anyone I said that. And let's get out of here, it's creeping me out.”

         With that, he turned and left. Marking the end of their trip. Which was fine by Alec, honestly. He was worn out by the experience and could only assume Magnus felt the same.

         Not that Magnus was willing to say so, of course. Alec was becoming familiar with the boy’s general discomfort regarding anything that might come off as vulnerability. Magnus wasn’t particularly good at being evasive, but he certainly made the effort. It was an upsetting mystery, which Alec pondered yet again as he followed Magnus back out into the park. There should be no reason for someone to so adamantly hide such a normal part of themselves, unless there was someone they needed to be hiding from.

         Of course, all signs pointed to Markus, which was as enraging as it was unsurprising. Unfortunately there wasn't much he could do, short of storming into the New York Institute and disemboweling the bastard under contempt of the Clave, unless Magnus was willing to let him help. Or admit to wanting help at all, for that matter.

         Magnus reached the street and continued on, deeper into the trees of the park. Alec didn't really notice until he'd stopped and turned around. 

         “This is probably where we should part ways.” Magnus mumbled awkwardly. He was looking Alec over like there was something he couldn't figure out, and was uncharacteristically hesitant with his words. “I- Well, thank you. For today. I know it was business, but I still had fun, so…”

         Alec couldn't help but smile. “So did I. I hadn't even considered trying to enjoy myself with this, so thank you too.”

         “Don't bother, I owe you one.” Magnus’ expression shifted into something unreadable, and his eyes gleamed as he stepped closer. “Actually, I should apologize in advance.”

         Alec was a mix of intrigued and unnerved. “What do you mea-Nmph!” He was cut off as Magnus dragged him down by the coat collar into a firm kiss. 

         It was intense and timid all at once. Alec could hear Magnus’ heart pounding, could feel the pulse in his neck when he pulled him closer. That little voice in his head was screaming at him but it was too late now. The kiss deepened and one of Alec's hands found its way around Magnus’ waist while the other still held his face. Meanwhile Magnus slid his hands up from Alec's collar to clutch at the nape of his neck. Magnus made a soft sound in his throat, and then he was drawing away, resting shaky hands against Alec's chest, staring up at him with widened eyes. 

         For a moment he looked vulnerable and terrified. Then he was smiling. It was small, and crooked, and slow to grow, but once there it didn't stop. His nerves turned to giddiness, and he bounced on the balls of his feet before separating himself from Alec's arms. 

         “Text me.” Was all he said before leaving, the speed of a Shadowhunter carrying him away faster than Alec's mind could catch up to the situation.

_ -He kissed me.-  _ Was all that his brain was willing to process, standing there shocked in the wake of a dream.  _ -He kissed me. He  _ wanted _ to kiss me. And he wants to talk to me again.-  _

         Alec was flying home before any thought managed to chill that warmth.  _ -Please, please let this be more than a game to him.- _

 

* * *

 

         “Where’ve you been?”

         The question came from inside the cafeteria, where Magnus had wandered in search of coffee. He'd given in to hubris and assumed that he could enter through the front doors of his own home without any trouble. He wasn't even surprised anymore at being wrong, even though he'd deliberately idled in order to get back at that time of evening when nobody was really active.  _ -Cursed is cursed, I guess.- _

         Raj, of all people, was slouched in a corner, with the coffee pot at his elbow. Funny, Magnus didn't recall him even liking coffee. “Raj,” He greeted  with satirical warmth. “it's a bit late for souring my day, isn't it? You must be aiming for a promotion.” He went over to pour himself a cup, and took a seat across the table. Raj was breaking his typical habits today, and in turn Magnus was curious enough to spare a minute. 

         Raj threw him a pointed stare and an expectant silence. Magnus rolled his eyes. “I was out.  _ As usual _ . Why is everyone suddenly asking me that? What, did I phase into an alternate dimension where I normally stay home?”

         “Please. You've been weird recently. Who were you out  _ with _ this time?”

         Magnus glared, more offended that his accusation was correct than anything. “Why the hell would you assume I was out  _ with _ someone? The whole point is to get  _ away _ from you people. And speaking of weird, what were you doing lurking alone with the coffee?”

         “Waiting for you to show up.” Raj snorted. “Magnus, you're about as subtle as aerial fireworks. It was that warlock, right?”

         When Magnus didn't reply beyond a clenched jaw, Raj gave a huff and turned away to glare at the space next to him. There was something -anger? frustration?- coloring his expression. If Magnus didn't know better he'd think it was betrayal. Raj gritted his teeth for a moment before speaking again, his voice lower this time. “Have you completely lost your mind? That's not just fucked up, it's dangerous. What do you think’s going to happen when someone other than me notices?”

         Magnus raised an eyebrow. This wasn't quite how things usually went between them. “Why, do you have someone in mind to tell?”

         “Psh. Like they'd need me to. It was Hodge right? The ‘everyone’ who was asking where you've been?”

         Magnus tensed at that. There was something in Raj’s demeanor this time that was unnerving him. “And if it was…?”

         “He's been snooping. Looking through your recent activity on the computers and shit, what books you've read, asking who you've been talking to lately. He obviously thinks there's something you're not telling him.”

         “That's… An interesting way of showing his concern.” Magnus admitted. “But what's your point?”

         “My  _ point _ is, Valentine's back. Hodge is a Circle member-”

         “ _ Was _ a Circle member-” 

         “Whatever! It's only past tense because they lost.”

         “ _ Raj _ .” Magnus hissed. “Valentine was an expert manipulator. People make mistakes! Hodge has been like family to me, what the fuck is your problem?”

         “Would you just  _ listen _ for once in your life?” Raj hissed back. “Valentine is back and you're living with his daughter. You're her peer, she might say things to you that she wouldn't tell Hodge, like clues about the Cup.  _ And _ you… You're seeing the warlock involved in hiding her. He could have all kinds of information that he doesn't trust the Institute enough to share, and you're getting intimate with the guy. And now a Circle member is poking around-”

         “ _ Ex _ Circle member.” Magnus stood emphatically. Curiosity was no longer enough to make him put up with this. “Sure, you're making it sound suspicious, but I  _ know _ Hodge, he  _ hates _ Valentine. And besides, he can't leave the Institute. What are you even trying to gain from this?”

         “I'm not trying to  _ gain _ anything!” Raj stood too, as though matching altitudes could keep Magnus from walking out. “For fuck’s sake Mag, I'm just trying to warn you, but you're too damn-”

         “Oh  _ please _ , what does it matter to you if-” 

         “It doesn't matter! I- You know what, fuck this. At least I tried. You're your own problem now.”

         Raj shoved past him and stormed out, beating Magnus to the dramatic exit. He stood there for a time, boggled by the interaction. “…And  _ I'm _ the one acting weird?”

         In the end, he didn't have the energy to worry about it tonight. Raj was being odd, but considering the rest of his day it was a back-burner kind of odd. Magnus mulled it over more on his way to bed. Raj’s drama mongering wasn’t necessarily new, and he was more concerned with the hyena, and the imprisoned warlock, and… and Alexander.

         He was guilty to admit it, but out of everything it was Alec that his mind kept wandering back to. Alec’s dorky little stutter, Alec’s stupid -giant- beautiful eyes, Alec’s warm little smile. Alec’s lips against his own.

         Their kiss played over and over in his head all night, and the memory made him shiver every time. He was in so, so much deeper that he'd planned. And it felt  _ good _ .

~.~

         Magnus was woken the next morning by the unwelcomely cheerful _ bing _ of a text message. The initials A.L. illuminated the screen, spawning butterflies in his chest and releasing a tension he hadn't realized was present. The fear that the kiss had been a stupid idea, that he'd fled like a coward after and ruined everything, that Alec hadn't wanted him in the first place. But here was proof, and it wasn't a “fuck off” message either. It was a “good morning” message.

Alec had texted to say good morning. Magnus let that sink in, clutching the phone to his chest while his nerves unspooled like so much fallen yarn. He wasn't even mad at being woken up.

         To everyone's surprise including his own, Magnus made it to the upstairs kitchen around the same time as his siblings. Someone, bless their heart, had bought cereal. Jace raised a hand in greeting, and nudged Clary beside him. “See, I told you he lives here. But shhh, Magni are known to startle and bolt at the slightest provocation.”

         Clary giggled into her coffee, and Simon, sitting across from them, rolled his eyes like he wanted to gouge them out. Magnus patted him sympathetically on his way to joining Deifilia at the counter. 

         She was brooding, pretending to read a cereal box, but brooding. Magnus nudged her with a toe. “How's the morning treating you, Dei?”

         She slapped on an ‘I'm not going to talk about it’ smile and turned to face him. “Hey Mag, good to see you. Did something happen yesterday? You just up and disappeared.”

         “Mm… not really.” Magnus grabbed a cereal box at random to focus on, hoping his face wouldn't betray him this time. It was something with marshmallows and cartoon mascots that he couldn't imagine anyone in the institute picking out. “I just felt like an outing.”

         “Oh yeah? Must've been some outing, you're practically glowing.”

“I'm pretty sure that's none of your busine-” A text came in at just the wrong time and Jace snickered. “Sounds like the ‘outing’ is calling back, but that's probably none of my business.” 

         “You bet it isn't.” Magnus grumbled as he checked the message. Deifilia leaned in to peek and he pulled the phone away.

         “Oh come on.” She whined. “At least tell us who it is.”

         “I think we can all guess who it is.” Said Jace. “You know, tall, raven haired, eyes three yards wide…”

         Even Magnus couldn't help laughing at that. “They really are giant.” He agreed. Everyone else seemed to recognize the description at the same time. Dei gave him a genial shove. 

         “You two are still talking?”

         “Well  _ yeah _ , we-” Magnus caught himself between keeping the unauthorized investigation a secret and using it as an excuse, and faltered. His sister seemed to take it as surrender.

         Clary chimed in with polite curiosity. “Are you dating A- um…” Simon was interrupting her with a frantic shake of his head, mouthing something Magnus couldn't make out. Jace covered for her. “I wouldn't really call it  _ dating _ , but sure.”

         “Why not?” Clary was looking between them with a confusion that meant she  hadn't gotten Dei's aggressive memo yet.

         “Because dating Downworlders is strictly taboo.” Jace explained. “And because Mags here is an infamous Lothario.”

         “Oh don't get all high and mighty with me now  _ Bookworm _ .” Magnus shot back. Loathe as he was to admit it, he was actually getting flustered. 

         Jace withdrew more than usual at that, unconsciously swaying in Clary's direction. “Am I wrong?”

         Magnus shrugged, earning a disapproving frown from Simon, who stared critically from behind oversized glasses. “Is your not-date aware of that?”

         “I- …I’m not sure.” The question took Magnus by surprise. Amidst all of his internal conflict, he hadn't stepped back to consider that Alexander could be the one hurt by all this. No matter what he felt or wanted to think about Alec, it had been filtered through a lifetime of conditioning to believe that Downworlders just didn't work the same way humans and Nephilim did. Feelings like love, friendship, heartbreak, they weren't supposed to be understood by those of demon blood.

         Looking back on who he'd learned it from, the logic probably wasn't sound. He'd just never had occasion to question it before.

         Clary was launching into some spiel about equality and racism that probably had a very good point, but Magnus wasn't listening. His mind was running through the last few days. He felt strongly for Alec, he couldn't really deny that anymore, but what exactly did Alec feel for him? Surely Magnus couldn't have gotten so attached if he fully believed that Alexander was as heartless as he'd been told, but when had he actually thought it over? Alec really did seem genuine, but didn't everyone warn that Downworlders were masters of deception?

         “I have to step out for a moment.” Someone, or possibly several someones, griped in protest. Magnus didn't wait to hear them out. This wasn’t something he was ready to unravel on his own, but damned if he was going to talk it over with them. He took his bowl of dry cereal and retreated outside.

         The roof would be too hot this time of day, so he sought out his second favorite hiding spot, up a tree near the edge of the churchyard. The big oak wasn't exactly a secret, since Magnus had been climbing it since he was a child, but people could rarely tell when he was there. Over the years its branches had acquired so many layers of runes for silence, seclusion, obscurity, and the like, that he was practically invisible within them. It was at least private enough for a phone call.

         It was about mid-day in Italy, but Catarina picked up on the second ring. Things were pretty quiet in Europe lately and she always managed to make time for her friends, because while they may all be angelic technically, she actually acted like it.

         “Cat,  _ chiao bella _ ! My dear, sweet, perfect best friend whom I've been thinking of and meaning to call every day, only to be prevented for  _ very _ understandable reasons. How have you been?”

         There was silence on the other end, followed by a gentle sigh. [“Hello Magnus, what can I do for you?”]

         “ _ Che cattivo _ ! Who says I'm calling for a favor? Maybe I've finally found time between all my heroic acts and just wanted to hear your kind and lovely voice.”

         [“Magnus, you're in the tree. I can hear the rune static. Hiding from your sister again, no?”]

         Magnus was laying back against a bough, watching the sunlight dance in speckles across his hand as it filtered through the branches. “Hmph, fine, you caught me. But I'm not  _ hiding _ , and it just so happens that I'm not calling for a favor either. I just… wanted to talk.”

         [“So you want my advice. What about?”]

         “More your opinion, actually, but thanks for the shining faith in my character Cat.”

         [“Mmhm. Out with it already Magnus, what is her name?”]

         “Do you think warlocks have feelings?” He blurted, idiotic to his own ears.

         There was another prolonged silence before she replied. [“…I can only assume you're meaning romantic feelings. Because she is a warlock.”]

         “I never said this was about a girl.”

         [“You never had to. But as for your question, I am no expert.”]

         “You're the best I've got.”

         Another sigh. [“Alright. I have seen much evil come from Downworlders, and much kindness. Maybe not towards me, but between each other. I think that must mean they feel the same things we do, don't you?”]

         Magnus sighed, partially out of relief. “I mean, it's not like Shadowhunters aren't capable of evil too, right? Can't really say that makes them less human in nature.”

         [“Exactly. They are as much human as they are demon, and there's only one side they could inherit their souls from.”]

         Magnus nodded, even though she couldn't see it. He didn't quite have words for his thoughts yet.

         [“So, can I at least know her name?”]

         Magnus took in a nervous breath, and exhaled “Alexander.”

         [“Alex- Alexander?”]

         “I told you it wasn't a girl.”

         [“Oh Magnus, this is no small thing. Does anyone else know?”]

         “Jace and Dei more or less figured it out, and the douche somehow.”

         [“Raj? Is he…-”]

         “No, actually. He's been weird about it, but not snitchy.” Magnus had started restlessly etching another rune into the branch. Longevity. At this rate the tree would  probably outlive everyone he knew. Most of them, anyway.

         Catarina made an uncertain noise. [“So long as you're okay. You are though, yes? I mean is he nice?”]

         “Mhmm, very.” Magnus felt a flush creeping up, and was thankful not to be having this talk in person. “He's a perfect gentleman, to be honest. It was almost annoying at first.”

         [“At first? How long has this been going on?”]

         “About… Five days?”  _ -Exactly five days.But lets pretend I'm not counting.- _ “But we only even kissed yesterday, and it was barely a thing.”

         [“That isn't very long.”]

         Magnus shrugged, to little purpose. “What can I say? He's charming.”

         [“He must be. How did you meet?”]

         “He was contracted for an investigation, and-” Magnus had to pause for a chuckle. He hadn't expected to spend the morning talking about boys, hadn't considered it an option really. Or realized how much he'd been wanting to. “I guess we got to talking, and I made him take me to dinner-”

         [“ _ Made _ him?”]

         “Yeahhhh I was being a little pushy, but whatever, he didn't seem to mind. Anyway I got his number and we've been keeping up.”

         [“I'm assuming he lives in New York then?”]

         “Mmhm, Brooklyn to be specific. He's got this apartment that's invisible from the outside and-”

         [ _ Un momento _ , you said  _ Alexander _ , from Brooklyn? Alexander what?”]

         Magnus smirked to himself. This was the shock-factor reaction he'd been subconsciously hoping for. “Alexander L’Morne…” He said with feigned innocence.

         [“L’Morne?!  _ Dal Angelo _ ! Tell me you do not mean the High Warlock L’Morne?”]

         “I would… But what's the point if you always know when I'm lying?”

         [“Magnus….”] He could practically hear her rubbing her temples. [“That is a very powerful warlock to be messing around with. Are you sure you're okay? You feel safe around him- he hasn't-?”]

         “Yes, Cat. I-” And suddenly the damned butterflies were back, shaking Magnus to pieces as he realized the truth of it. “...Honestly, I feel safer when I'm with him.”

         That seemed to catch her off guard. [“Really? How so?”]

         “I'm… not really sure, actually. He's just that kind of person, you know? I mean all I've seen him do since I met him is try to take care of people. Even his file, the records are all about him illegally protecting Downworlders before the accords and-”

         [“Oh? You went through his file?”]

         “Well  _ yeah _ , it's Alexander L'Morne! Have you  _ heard _ the guy's reputation?”

         [“Of course I have heard his reputation! Before he was ever your High Warlock he was the scourge of Southern Europe, back when my great grandparents- …Hm.”] Magnus winced privately, and had to assume she was doing the same. [“He is a bit old, isn’t he.”]

         “Just a bit, yeah…” Magnus considered that in silence for a moment. It wasn’t the first time it had crossed his mind, and not the first time he concluded that he’d just have to wait and see if it became an issue. “Aged like a fine wine though.”

         There was a muffled snort from her end of the line. [“Magnus!  _ Fare Pudore _ !”]

         “Oh it’s much too late for that. I’m talking _ molto fino  _ here, like, have you ever  _ seen _ him?”

         [“No, I have not.”] It was obvious in her tone that she was still cracking up. 

         “Well look up a picture, but I promise he’s hotter in person. I mean he’s taller than me, shoulders the width of Texas, with jet black hair and the bluest eyes the world has ever known. Like cobalt blue, I’m not even exaggerating. It’s frankly unfair.”

         Cat’s voice was shaking slightly with laughter. [“You really have always loved the blue eyes. And black hair too, no? Wasn’t that your dream combination?”]

         “Absolutely. I swear it’s like he was hand made to drive me crazy.”

         Catarina laughed in ernest, and Magnus was grinning. This was nice. Finally letting himself relax and talk to someone about Alec was  _ nice _ , and about two hours later, when Cat insisted she had to get off the phone, Magnus felt genuinely good for the first time in weeks.

~.~

         A day later and Magnus no longer felt even remotely good. 

         His father was due back soon. They had no good news to report. The only news at all was from a Downworlder, not at all good, and obtained without permission. Aside from that, Jace was positively lovesick over Valentine’s daughter, they had a Mundane hanging around the Institute, Deifilia was about to suffer a stress fracture of the mind, and Magnus was more or less dating the High Warlock of Brooklyn. It probably wasn’t possible to feel any worse.

        Sleep was not an option. Magnus had given a couple hours of valiant effort and had nothing but rumpled hair and an unpleasantly warm pillow to show for it. He ended up on the roof again, wrapped in a blanket, drink in hand, watching the moon rise over the skyline. It was almost full, which meant werewolf problems soon. Much as he hated wolf patrol, at least it would keep him occupied with something that could be deemed useful.

         Magnus took another swig. He was playing a little drinking game with himself that he liked to call ‘Take a shot every time you worry about your dad’. Miraculously, he was still nowhere near drunk, and the bottle was almost empty, so he was going to have to make new plans for the night. 

         He fidgeted with his cellphone, contemplating. Alec hadn’t really spoken to him since yesterday. Last Magnus heard, he was still trying to make sense of the S.O.S. rock. It was well past midnight, so most reasonable people were at least trying to sleep at the moment. Then again, from what Magnus had seen, Alec didn’t exactly have reasonable sleep patterns. A call just might be worth the risk.

         Magnus hesitated. Perhaps a text instead. Worst case scenario he’d be sleeping and it’d go unanswered until morning. What could be the harm?

        M: <(Are you busy?)

         Not his most eloquent, but it should do the trick. A reply came sooner than he expected.

         A: <(Yes.)

         Great. Honesty is always good. Magnus liked honesty. He had to remind himself of that as his already low spirits fully submerged.

         A: <(But not too busy for your company, if you don’t mind me working.)

         Low spirits? What low spirits? This was a great night. Definitely better than drinking alone of the roof.

         M: <(I’ll be right over.)

         A: <(I’ll send a cab.)

         Magnus recommended a street just out of sight of the institute, and with a couple runes and hop out the back window he was on his way there. He'd had just enough time to get himself dressed and smelling decent, though he’d had to settle for dragging a wet comb through his hair in lieu of washing and restyling it, but at least he was presentable.

         The trip was faster than usual, and his driver at least part Seelie. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the sleeplessness, or both, but he could have sworn that not all of the streets they took actually existed on New York maps.

         Alec's door clicked open as soon as Magnus touched it, revealing a dim empty room. The only light was coming from the kitchen doorway, so he hung his coat and satchel in the hall and followed it in. 

         Alec was seated at the dining table, pouring over a small horde of jewelry and baubles. By his elbow were a giant glass jar, and what looked like a repurposed vase with a big cork for a lid.

         Magnus froze at the threshold. This, he realized, was the first they'd seen of each other since the kiss. Alec was absorbed in whatever he was doing, head bowed over the table, hair tousled, sticking up in tufts around his horns and falling into his face. He was wearing something knit and oversized that may have been black about thirty years ago, but somehow still suited him.

_ -Is it possible for someone to look good in literally anything?- _

         It was nice just to watch him with his walls down. He didn't really look peaceful, more stressed and burned out than anything, but he looked 100% himself, which Magnus was finding to be a rare treat. He had one arm propped up on an elbow, worrying absently at a lock of hair, while the other hand rolled a pendant back and forth between his fingers. 

         The moment ended all too soon, and Alec was looking up, greeting him, trying to smile. The circles under his eyes were darker than ever and he looked ready to crack with stress.

         “Good- uh, early morning? I don’t really know, but please, come sit, it's good to see you.”

         “Likewise. Good technical morning.”

         Magnus chose the seat beside him, and was torn between reaching out or not. Now that Alec was near he ached to be closer, another kiss, an embrace,  _ something _ , but was suddenly unsure if he had the right. Simon had made a good point, and Cat had struck it home: Alexander wasn't impartial in this. Magnus shouldn't be playing with his emotions.

        Instead he focused on the jewelry. “What are you up to?” 

         Alec looked down at the pile and sighed. “Procrastinating, to be honest.”

         Magnus chuckled. “By doing  _ what _ though? Are these all yours?”

         “Actually no. These are all 'payments’, from the Fair Folk mostly. If they don't have actual money with them they tend to pay with whatever's on their person. I’m sorting through it.” He motioned from the vase to the jar. “Items with magical properties and ones without, so I can repurpose the magic and sell the rest.”

         Magnus eyed the pile with raised brows. “Do none of them ever carry cash?”

         That earned a wry smile. “Funnily enough, they used to, before word started getting around. Nowadays you'd think the entire Seelie economy up and crashed.”

         “You mean you've just been letting them cheat you?” Magnus was as appalled as he was baffled.

         Alec laughed, turning to face Magnus and resting a horn in his hand to prop his tired head up. “Don’t tell anyone -if there’s anyone left who doesn’t know-, but I’m a massive pushover.”

         “Seriously?”

         “Mmhm.” Alec sighed again, dragging a hand over his face. “Honestly I hate monetary systems, or barter for that matter, they just don't make any damn  _ sense _ .” He scrutinized the pendant dismally, and flicked it into the glass jar before grabbing another one. “Where I grew up we didn't haggle about payment or debt or any of this crap, we just helped each other because that's what people  _ do _ . Here if you do someone a favor for nothing they rob you blind, there's no compassion, no sense of family. It's awful.”

         This seemed to be building into a long winded lament, but Magnus didn't interrupt. There was something endearing about the way Alec whined, or maybe it was just the chance to know more about him, but Magnus was intrigued.

         “And then there's all this  _ gauging _ ! How much is your life worth, in the form of precious metals? In paper notes? In electronic credit? Who can charge for such a thing? But if I save a life for free then the next person refuses to pay for removing a wart. If I charge low for a poor person then a rich man wants the same price. Before you know it half the world is lining up to take advantage. Everyone takes more than they need and leaves nothing for the rest, it's sickening.”

         “Yet you help them anyway.”

         Alec threw up his hands in defeat. “Yet I do, and this is what I get for it.”

         Magnus had to turn away to hide his smile. Any lingering doubts about Alec's humanity were crumbling away, no matter what he was taught to suspect or how he squinted, he couldn't find a monster in the man before him. Just a reluctant saint with the devil's horns.

         “Well, why don’t I help? Sounds to me like you’re making more work for yourself than someone in your position should have to.”

         “No. You’re a guest, you don’t need to-”

         “Nonsense.” Magnus was already tracing a Perception rune with his stele. “I invited myself over, it's the least I can do. Besides, you had me help out last time didn't you?”

         “That was different, this isn't importan-”

         “Shhh.” Magnus held a finger to Alec’s lips. He’d done it before the part of his brain that was actually good for something could stop him, and now he was frozen in horror at his actions. It did the trick though. Alec was flustered into silence, and followed with his eyes as Magnus pulled his hand away. It was too late to take back the action so Magnus tried to play it cool. “Just let me help you, Alexander. Because I  _ want _ to, you're not forcing me.”

         Alec didn't protest after that, just dropped his gaze, mumbling some form of acquiescence, and slid a portion if the pile over to Magnus. They sorted in silence for a bit, and Mag’s mind wandered, sifting through lists of cultures without currency or barter. It was giving him some trouble.Even most rural tribes had some form of trade, had he been referring to a gift economy? Magnus had been trying not to pry, trying to respect Alec's boundaries after how much he'd pushed them before, but it was going to bother him all night. He had to ask. “Where did you grow up, anyway?”

         Alec waved a hand dismissively. “It doesn't matter, the world's long changed. I just have to keep up.”

         Magnus pouted at the evasion. “Fine. Tell me about why you're procrastinating.”

         Alec's jaw clenched and he dropped his gaze, revealing a mix of frustration and shame. “The S.O.S.” He admitted reluctantly. “It's been… taking a bit of a toll to figure out.”

         Magnus blinked. He'd managed to forget about it between the stress and the stress drinking, but it did seem like it'd been taking quite a while. “How come? Is it coded or something? Want me to help with that too?”

         Alec shook his head emphatically. “No. Magnus, I'm not going to ask that of you. It's Downworlder business anyway-”

         “If it has to do with Valentine then it's absolutely my business too. Why would that be too much to ask?” The look on Alec's face worried him, Magnus leaned forward but the warlock withdrew.

         “It's not a code, it's not even really a message it's-” He gestured helplessly. “It's like an imprint. Of- of thoughts and emotions, like everything going on in his mind in that moment, just dumped into an object. So you can't just flip through it until you find something useful. You have to re-experience the whole thing and hope you can pick up clues from the sensory input.”

         Alec's tone verged on pleading and Magnus was beginning to understand. “I'm assuming that whatever he's feeling isn't pleasant…” He waited for Alec to nod before continuing. “How unpleasant?”

         Alec bit his lip instead of answering, and Magnus felt his stomach drop. He took note again of Alec's appearance; Sunken eyes, disheveled hair, old stubble, hunched shoulders under the kind of clothes that you didn't leave the house in.

         “Have you been holed up in here  _ literally _ torturing yourself for the past three days?!”

         Alec blanched, his expressive skin betraying him while his voice tried not to. “No, it's only a fraction of the intensity, I-”

         “Bullshit, Alexander, look at yourself! You look like you've been locked in a dungeon for weeks and-”

         “But I haven't in  _ actuality _ , Magnus. Whereas someone out there  _ has _ been. Still  _ is _ as we speak, assuming he's still  _ alive _ . I can't just sit back and let that happen to someone. You understand that don't you?” His eyes  _ were _ pleading now, pleading for Magnus to understand, to back off, to let him continue hurting himself as much as necessary to get the job done, and Magnus found it hard to refuse. Though he couldn't bring himself to agree, either.

         “I'm helping. And that's that.” Alec began another protest but Magnus wasn't having it. “I know you feel like it's your responsibility, you're the High Warlock, I get that. But that doesn't mean you have to do it alone.” He insisted. “Maybe it's your people who are suffering, but it's  _ mine _ who are hurting them. I'm in this with you, Alexander.”

         Alec stared at him for a long moment, expression complex and simmering, before he caved. “What would you do if I still said no?”

         Magnus grinned mischievously. “Something stupid and dangerous, most likely.”

         It made Alec smirk. “Well we wouldn't want that now, would we.” He raised his hand, sluggish with exhaustion, in preparation to snap his fingers. 

         Magnus closed his own hands around it, pulling it down to look Alec in the eye. “How much more is this going to take out of you if we do it now?”

         Alec's initial reply died in his throat. His hand was shaky, and he looked away uncomfortably. “Nothing worse than what he's going through. I can't keep putting this off-”

         “You were putting it off before I got here. He’ll last a few more hours, how can you save anyone if you push yourself to breaking?” 

         “But-”

         “If you can't take care of yourself then you're no help to anyone, right?” They were his father's words. Magnus didn't mean them the same way, but it was still painful to hear the sentence leaving his own mouth. He bit down on his lip, watching nervously for Alec's reaction.

         It seemed to do the trick, at least. Alec nodded and dropped his hand. Terms like ‘use’ and ‘value’ really seemed to affect the guy. Magnus felt bad for the little manipulation, wondering again how L’Morne had turned out this way. In his experience, self worth issues didn't tend to come with positions of power, Alec was something entirely new to him. 

         It hit Magnus then that all the recent worries were pointless, there was no hope of this man being meaningless to him.

         When the silence threatened to become too comfortable Alec cleared his throat, moving his captured hand to indicate a bracelet sitting by Mag's elbow. “You can keep it, if you like.”

         Magnus jerked to hide a flush. “I wasn't trying to keep it! I'm just having trouble figuring out if it's-”

         Alec twitched his fingers with a smirk, bringing the bracelet flying into his hand. It was clearly Seelie crafted, an intricate filigree of thin copper wire set with mixed stones in all the shades of verdigris, forming a roughly two inch wide cuff. Alec held it for all of three seconds before stating his diagnosis. “Purely decorative, but I can see why you'd find it enchanting.” He passed it back to Magnus. “Nice choice, it'll look good on you.”

         Magnus felt heat flare higher in his cheeks, hands clenched stubbornly at the table’s edge. “I'm not going to wear it!”

         “Why not?”

         “Men don't wear jewelry.” He blurted, feeling stupid even as he said it.

        Alec leaned back to regard him, leaving the cuff floating in the air between them, cocking a bemused eyebrow. “By what definition of a man? In every country and century I've been through, there has always been men who decorated themselves. Even your friend Jace wears a ring, and this piece probably belonged to a man, for all that it matters to Fae.”

         Magnus clamped his mouth shut. From that perspective it really did sound stupid. The truth was, his father had been disgusted to the point of livid when Magnus had tried wearing his mother's jewelry as a child, and had made sure to impress on him how wrong it was. Of course he couldn't really explain that to anyone, not without coming across as either whiny or overly dramatic, instead he snatched the bracelet out of the air. 

         He turned it over in his hands for a bit, contemplating. He  _ may  _ have been lying about his struggle with the thing. It caught his eye and he hadn't wanted to part with it yet, he just hadn't considered the idea of actually getting to  _ own _ it. It really was beautiful, and, to be honest, very much his style. He slipped it over his wrist and stretched out his arm to admire the effect. “You definitely have a point, Alexander. -But I can't wear this home, people would freak.”

         Alec's face froze halfway to smiling and collapsed into a frown. “Over a bracelet?”

         Magnus tried to casually shrug it off. “It's a pretty conservative institute. Maybe I could get away with something less gaudy or whatever, but-”

         “Then I'll keep it for you.” Alec snapped his fingers, a bit more aggressively than usual, and a polished ebony box appeared in a flash of red. “If anything else catches your eye, you're welcome to keep in here.”

         “Seriously?” 

         “Yes. Or you can take the whole box home, I'll set it to only open for you-”

         “Why are you doing all this for me?” Magnus demanded. He was disconcerted by the sudden tension over something like this. “It's just jewelry, why do you care so much about me wearing it?”

         “Because it's _ just jewelry _ ,” Alec leaned forward, talking with his hands again either for emphasis or because he'd forgotten not to. “and you shouldn't have to be afraid to wear it-.”

         “I'm not afraid.” Magnus snapped reflexively at the word. “I just- There's certain things-” None of the excuses made as much sense out loud as in his thoughts. Magnus sighed sharply. “It's not  _ fear _ , I just know when to pick my battles.”

         Alec was still frowning, but he backed off again. “Well you can leave this battle at the Institute. If there's something you want, don't hold back.” The jewelry box opened expectantly, but Alec's words were weighted with more than just immediate implication. Magnus appreciated and resented him for it.

         They hadn't been working much longer when Alec paused again. He glanced up and smiled slightly at the beaded cord wound around Magnus' other wrist, before seeking his eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

         It was Magnus’ turn to raise an eyebrow. “Might as well.”

         “What brought you here at this hour of… of the ‘technical morning’?”

         Magnus dropped his gaze. It was a tricky question to evade convincingly, or maybe he was just tired. “…I couldn't sleep.”

         “Anything in particular giving you trouble?”

         Magnus laughed a small, bitter laugh. “If you already know the answer why bother asking?”

         Alec straightened up to face him frankly. “To see if you want to talk about it.”

         Magnus fought the urge to pout. It was a fair question, he would have asked the same. Probably. But it was still difficult to open up his mouth and answer. “My father is coming home tomorrow. It's… Everyone's freaking out a bit. He's kind of an asshole.” 

         Alec nodded in agreement. “Understandable, but I doubt the rest of them are losing this much sleep over it.”

         He was prying, it was obvious now, and Magnus had already opened up as far as he was willing to. “They're not his son. It's different.” Magnus turned back to sorting jewelry, strongly implying an end to the subject. He heard Alec sigh and shift in his chair.

         “You can come here whenever you need.”

         That got Magnus to look up again. “What?”

         Alec motioned to the room in general. “If you need to get away from home, somewhere to relax, a place to sleep. My doors are open to you.”

         Magnus blinked, wide eyed and momentarily dumbstruck, before he regained himself. Then he leaned back, crossing his arms, trying for a coy air. “A key to your house after just two dates? I must be a better kisser than I thought.”

         Alec snorted, recognizing the joke but affronted nonetheless. “You're welcome here even if we never kiss again, Magnus. It’s not about that, I just- I want to help if I can…”

         He trailed off and Magnus hummed a lazy acknowledgement. He shifted posture again, creeping into Alec’s personal space, enjoying the way the warlock tensed at his proximity. Alec’s sincerity was touching, as usual, more so than Magnus was entirely comfortable with. He’d told himself to slow down, figure things out a little, allow some breathing room before he made a mistake… But right now he was feeling dizzy and reckless and in the mood for mistakes. He gave a predatory smile, dropping his voice a seductive octave. “Well, I'll just have to take your word for it, because I very much want to kiss you again.”

         Magnus was leaning forward, flirting, trying for a rise.  _ Was _ . Now he was being pulled forward, Alec's long hands wrapping around his face and the back of his head, getting thoroughly and passionately kissed.

         He melted into it completely, seeking Alec’s tongue with his own, exploring the warmth of his mouth and the edges of those jagged teeth. The warlock’s fingers twisted into his hair, raising goosebumps down his neck and face. One moment the chair was digging uncomfortably into his arm, the next he was lurching dizzyingly and they were on the couch. Magnus wasted no time pressing forward until Alec was on his back, pinned between him and the armrest.

         They were a mess of hands. Alec's were snaking around Magnus’ waist, Mag’s were sliding up his chest and neck and finally,  _ finally _ , getting to run fingers through that gorgeous messy hair. His questing fingers found a horn and he used it to pull Alec's head back, deepening the kiss and eliciting a soft moan.

         Magnus ran a hand back down Alec's chest and stomach, enjoying the feeling of lean muscle moving and shivering under his touch. Alec gripped his hips and Magnus gasped, clutching at Alec's sweater in his need to access bear skin. But when he broke contact for air Alec drew away, lust battling concern on his face. “You smell like alcohol. Are you…?”

         Magnus rolled his eyes with a hard sigh. “No, just buzzed if even. I drank hours ago.”

         Alec didn't seem convinced, and Magnus huffed in defeat. “You're not gonna just ignore it, are you?”

         Alec started to stutter apologetically but Magnus hushed him, instead flopping down and tucking himself under Alec's arm. “Don't worry about it, I'm tired anyway.” It was frustrating, sure, but sweet enough to be forgivable. Magnus nestled in and made himself comfortable against Alec's chest. Not a bad consolation prize, he had to admit. “But I'll have you know that I'm perfectly capable of making questionable decisions while sober, too. I'll corrupt you eventually.”

         Alec laughed and hugged him tighter. “I'm sure you will.”

         “Damn right. And I'm still taking you up on that offer to sleep here.”

         The last thing he was aware of was a steady heartbeat and the rumble of words in Alec's chest.

 

* * *

 

         Alec was mid-sentence when he noticed Magnus’ breathing deepen and slow. One hand resting limply on his chest while the other was still half tangled in his sweater.

         “Did you fall asleep?”

         “No…” The answer was soft and slurred.

         “Are you sure?”

         “No.” Magnus nuzzled closer, his brow creasing stubbornly and eyes screwed shut. “Mn… You're never getting this back you know.” He continued in his sleep. “It looks good on me…”

         Alec laughed, the movement making Magnus grumble and shift. Alec soothed a hand through his hair until he settled again. It was less stiff today, parting and smoothing under his fingers, a longish bit at the front drooped and fell over his brow in a way that was oddly enchanting. Everything about Magnus was enchanting, he was heartachingly beautiful, and Alec was still wrapping his mind around the reality of this moment.

         It was never his intention to grow this close to a Shadowhunter, he didn't trust them. He  _ couldn't _ trust them. It was a truth he'd known since the first time he'd encountered their kind. Back when they'd followed in the wake of conquistadors, attacked his home, justified it as eradicating demon worshippers.

         They were the monsters of his youth. Nightmare creatures from across the sea, bearing filth and disease, wielding scorching light and burning strange magics into their skin. He'd seen them commit atrocities that the Accords would never erase.

         Yet here he was now, welcoming one into his home, his heart, his head. As though they were something able to love and be loved. Everything he'd ever learned to be true told him this was wrong, but watching Magnus now, sleep talking in his arms, he couldn't imagine regret. 

         Any attempt to move made the Nephilim protest and cling. Eventually Alec gave up for the night, summoning a blanket over Magnus’ shoulders and banishing the shoes from their feet, and surrendered to his fate as a cushion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoying the fic? Glad to see me up and posting? Come visit me at [my tumblr](https://basuralindo.tumblr.com)!  
> As ways thanks for reading. Your comments and kudos keep this story going and make me smile in the morning.


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